A Post Hogwarts Affair
by burgundyred
Summary: Hermione's married to Ron, but it's more of a union of Ron&Quidditch. Desperate she takes a job at Malfoy, Inc. and develops an unhealthy obsession with her boss. Results include all the symptoms of a fullblown crush. DMHG
1. The Beginning

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A Post-Hogwarts Affair

Summary: Ron and Hermione have been married for four years. Their relationship has been a tangled web of mistrust and arguments, and divorce was probably inevitable. But now—everything has come to a restrained halt—when Ron finds out Hermione's been having an affair…especially _who_ she's been having an affair with. 

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Disclaimer: I do not own the characters present in the Rowling books. 

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A quick note: This just popped into my head. I don't know if I will continue it, but you might want to review if you like it, that could help change my mind.

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Rating: PG-13 for now—language mostly

Hermione Granger-Weasley lay in the small full-size bed, big enough for a person and a half, wishing she were anywhere but here. She looked up at the ceiling, enchanted to match their dreams. Right now he was the only one asleep, thus only his dreams could be seen. Swirls of silver against a black sky, fleeting images of a broomstick, the crowd, cheers…all he ever cared about anyway. She blinked, trying to hold back her tears. She wanted out so badly. It had been two years and she'd wanted out. Oh, she tried. She tried hard, sacrificing almost everything to support his career. 

But he put Quidditch first, always. Priority 1: Quidditch. Priority 2: Harry and Ginny. Ron was very supportive of the budding romance between the two. Actually Ron was supportive of anything Harry did, almost. In her most bitter moments, Hermione wondered if Ron was well, more attracted to Harry than he was to her. It certainly seemed like that. Hermione brushed the thought away. If anything, Ron was straight. Hermione knew perfectly well what he did after Quidditch games, which brought her to priority number 3 of his. Drinking. Ron loved the stuff. She should have seen it coming; his unhealthy obsession with butterbeer would only lead to bigger and better and more dangerous things. And when Ron drank, he was extraordinarily drunk, which often led to midnight phone calls asking Mrs. Granger-Weasley to please come retrieve her husband who was currently streaking on the Quidditch field. Priority 4 was his family. Ron adored all of them, and he was always sending what little money they made to his parents. Not that Hermione minded. If anyone deserved money it was the Weasleys. But honestly—he gave them so much that…well, Hermione knew that their financial status was plummeting. Ron earned quite a bit with his Quidditch career, but half went to his parents, and of the half remaining, one half of that went to alcohol. Hermione made a decent amount of money working in the Ministry as well, but recently the pay had been rather low, with much money going to fund the support groups that had been established all over the place after Voldemort had executed his wrath. Finally, at priority number 5, Hermione decided she fit in. She'd never wanted a man that doted on her night and day, but well, eating together would be nice. Hermione was a great fan of romance, she wanted to be wined and dined and well…treated nicely. 

And that brought her to the affair. She had never thought that she of all people would have an affair; it was simply so wrong. She blinked again, letting her tears trickle down her face gently. She had thought she loved him, but even then…even at the beginning, she'd had her doubts. Their wedding…well, it had almost been perfect. If only Ron hadn't…she struggled not to let the memory in, but her emotions flooded her barriers anyway. 

__

"Hermione, hurry up! The wedding's in an hour!" Ginny Weasley shrieked. Hermione smiled, looking at herself in the mirror. She had to admit, she looked really nice. The white chiffon dress was extremely modern, courtesy of her long-time friend Parvati Patil, now a brilliant fashion designer. Her hair had been done up except for a few golden brown tendrils lightly framing her face, bringing out the chocolate in her eyes. And Hermione adored the shoes. They gave her an edge; literally and figuratively. The four-inch heels certainly added to her petite, 5 foot 3 inch frame, and Hermione found stilettos really sexy. Ron would love them, for sure. 

"I'm coming," she called to Ginny, surveying her image one last time. Lovely, really. She turned around and went down the spiraling staircase of the burrow. Outside, Harry was waiting. He smiled when he saw her. 

"You look great," he said sincerely, as they pulled into a warm embrace. "Ron will love it." At the mention of his name, she stiffened. She wasn't sure if it was right to get married so soon. They had only graduated two years ago, and in Hermione's mind, were a little too young to get married. Unless, of course, it was true love, something Hermione was an avid believer in. But she wasn't sure if what she felt for Ron was real, true love, or if it was just…and she hated to say it, an infatuation. More of a platonic love. When they kissed, she felt something, but it wasn't…oh, she didn't even know what it was. She hoped it was love, after all, she was rushing headlong into a marriage with the man!

Harry pulled out a beautiful silver broomstick, with gossamer moon beam bristles, and whispered, "I'm taking you there on this. Just you and me. For old times' sake, you know." She smiled, thrilled. After all, her friendship with Harry was going to…well, change a little bit, now that she'd be spending a lot more time with Ron and everything. 

"Okay," she said. They mounted the broomstick, and soon Hermione felt the heavenly breeze of the spirits whistle through her hair. "So, Hermione, you're ready for it?" Harry asked.

"Marriage, you mean?"

"Yeah. Kind of a big step, isn't it?"

"Yes, I know. But I've dated him forever…"

"I know. But, please, don't take this the wrong way…Oh, never mind."

"What?" Hermione had been curious to know.

"Well, I just don't know if you two are meant to be together. You're always squabbling…but hey, they say opposites attract. I'm sure you'll have a lovely life with him." Harry had turned around, a warm, sincere grin on his face, but Hermione had taken it the wrong way anyway.

"Are you saying that I'm making a mistake?" she had said stiffly.

"No! I'm just asking if you've given it enough thought. I don't want…say, four years from now, you to be hurt or something. Ron is really great, but…he's immature. I don't think he's ready for marriage." 

Hermione's face glistened with all the tears she'd shed. Harry had wisdom beyond his years at that moment. Why hadn't she listened to him? Ron was insufferably immature; she should never have gotten married so young. And that hadn't even been all. The day had unmistakably deteriorated.

__

Finally, the wedding was due to start, but Ron was nowhere to be seen. For three hours, they had waited for him to show up. Hermione had cried her eyes out, and Harry and Ginny were doing their best to console her.

"Honestly, he wouldn't do something like this," they said, "Something must've come up." 

Finally Mrs. Weasley apparated back to the Burrow to check on the clock where Ron was. Hermione had gone with her, and when she saw where the clock pointed, she almost erupted in rage.

"He's at a bloody bar! On our wedding day!" 

Hermione got up out of the bed to get a drink of water, shooting a wary glance at a snoring Ron. He snored. Something else she could not stand! Even the most trivial of things seemed to annoy her these days. She sipped her glass in bitter contempt, remembering the state in which Ron had _finally_ showed up. Drunk as hell. And she'd still married him! What had been wrong with her?

Something was still wrong with her. That's why she was having this affair. It was so wrong, on so many levels. She remembered running into him at Diagon Alley, something she had not expected. He was towing around an eleven-year-old boy, shopping for school for his first year of Hogwarts. She had been so surprised to see him she'd called out his name.

__

"Malfoy!" He spun around, his messy blonde hair flying in the wind, and had simply stared at her for a few moments. 

"Yes?"

She didn't know what to say. She was embarrassed, she hadn't really planned having a conversation with him after so many years. "Oh…I don't know. Just surprised to see you after um, five years."

"Oh yeah?" He was walking back towards her now. "Granger…so, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"Just…looking for someone." She'd been looking for Ron, who was MIA for about a day and a half now. Probably drunk somewhere, or practicing Quidditch, or hanging out with Harry…anywhere but with her. 

"Oh really. Who, might I ask?"

"Well, what are you doing here?" she said, desperately trying to reverse the tables.

"I am taking my nephew school supply shopping for Hogwarts. What does it look like I'm doing? You, of all people, should be smart enough to figure it out." And he had shot her a grin. She was taken aback.

"No 'mud blood' in that sentence?" She'd asked wryly.

"Eh," he said. "Childish insult. Unless you liked it when I talked dirty…" Another mischievous grin.

"Malfoy! You've got a kid with you!" She had been shocked. 

"Oh yeah. C'mon, Brendon, what's next on the list…a wand, eh?…Well, I'll be seeing you around, Granger…just got to drop this kid off to his mother in a bit…" He'd turned and headed off to the wand shop.

Hermione recalled that she'd bumped into him again at the ice cream parlor, and things had only gone downhill from there. 

A/N: Review, review, review!


	2. Malfoy, Incorporated

A PostHogwarts Affair Chapter 2

A/N: I am officially changing this to first person; it's easier to write that way and I think it works better with the story. Also, I know it's getting repetitive—but please review! 

I held the coffee mug tightly, my fingers white with my grip. Life was so unfair. Why had I met him? Why had I married Ron? Why was I stuck? I wanted so badly to divorce Ron and marry…well, Draco Malfoy, but I couldn't do that, for multiple reasons. I loved the Weasley family; I couldn't induce heartbreak into their lives. And Harry would kill me for doing so. The Weasleys had been so kind to both of us, hosting us every summer, etc, etc, and then I wanted to divorce their son? Not happening. I buried my hands into my still bushy—a little less bushy, I guess, because it was longer—hair as another flashback took over my body.

__

I was tired after such a long day of just looking for Ron, and thought I'd have a bite of delicious ice cream from Fortescue's. As I sat down on one of the big white, ice-cream-cone shaped chairs, I heard that lazy drawl behind me once again.

"Pigging, are we Granger? Honestly you don't need any more fat."

I turned around to face the pale boy…well, man, now. "You need more. You call yourself a man? Look at that. Harry's broomstick is fatter than you."

He scowled. "No need to get started on this…verbal sparring." 

"I agree," I told him as I licked my chocolate toffee flavored ice cream from the honey-dipped cone.

"So where's the kid?" I asked after a few moments of silence. 

"Got rid of the little bugger. I found his mum out in the book shop."

"Why were you babysitting him anyway? Very un-Malfoy thing to do, if you ask me."

"Did anyone ask you?"

I frowned. I loved arguing with Malfoy. It was a challenge—something I hadn't had in forever. "So," I said, quickly changing the topic, "What're you up to now that the life of a death eater is no longer a career option?"

He scowled. In all reality, I knew perfectly well what he was up to. Anybody who read the Daily Prophet did. He was one of the wealthiest bachelors—wealthiest men, really, he beat the married men too—in our world. He was the CEO of Malfoy, Inc. I didn't exactly know what Malfoy, Inc. did, but they had stock in every other company that was successful, making them one of the three top companies by annual gross in the wizard world.

"Pity, Granger."

"Pity why?"

"That you—as much as I hate to admit it, the smartest witch of our time—don't keep up with the modern times to know what I'm up to."

I could not stand being 'in the dark', even if I was faking it. "All right, so you're the wealthiest bachelor in the wizarding world and every gold digger is after you. Happy now?"

"Much better," he said, a devilish grin appearing across his face. 

"Having fun with the women?" I asked, disdainfully. Ron probably was. 

"Well, after three years just plain old sex is a little boring, but I'm not ready to give it up," he said. "So I don't see your name in the papers, Granger. What? Not smart enough after all?" 

I clenched my fingers together. This very fact had been bothering me for a long time. "No, Malfoy, I'm perfectly capable, but…my husband doesn't permit me to look for another job."

"Bowing down to a man? Well it's time you did; women these days…"

"Malfoy!" I almost punched him, but didn't just in case I spilled my ice cream.

"Keep licking that cone," he told me, "It makes you look sexy for a change." Throwing away any concern I had for the ice cream, I raised my fist to meet his perfectly shaped nose only to be stopped by sheer arm strength.

"No, Granger, fights are for little children. You're not that immature, are you?"

"Oh, no, Malfoy. I'm sorry, that's just the effect you have on me." Haha, Malfoy, I thought. Top that, top that, top that.

"I know. I tend to make women dizzy and immature…" he said, shrugging. 

"Yes, by your egotistical personality, you little bastard."

"Why, thank you. I was waiting for that one. Anyhow, who is this husband of yours that won't let you get a better job?"

"None of your business."

"Granger, you might as well just tell me, because I can find out--and publicly humiliate you--in the snap of my hands if I wanted to."

"Ron."

"You married the Weasel? I thought you'd be smarter than that." He said, smirking. I wanted to hurt him, but unfortunately, he was so right.

"Yes, I did. I thought so too." I abruptly got up and left Diagon Alley, not even turning once to look at him. 

I almost laughed as I remembered our first real encounter. He was such a blast to talk to. I never expected to chat with him again, but to my surprise, he offered me a job via owl post. The money looked fabulous, and I had been really tempted to take it. After much consideration, I decided to ask Ron, my argument being that maybe we could get a bed big enough for two people. As usual, I couldn't locate him, and in my anger, I took the job. I had no idea where that would lead--and it put me in the position I was in now. 

The work was perfect for me. I was top executive of his Muggle Companies branch. The greedy little pig, much as he hated Muggles, I'm sure, still invested in their companies and made butt-loads of money off of them. And I was in charge of all this…surprise, surprise, probably because I was Muggleborn. The pay was about four times as much as I had been making, and I felt as if I was living in a dream. Until, of course, Ron brought it crashing down to reality.

__

"What the hell?" _He screamed when I told him._

"Well, it pays well and I enjoy it and what's wrong with it anyway?"

"First off, you're working for Malfoy! What is wrong with you? And secondly, a job at the ministry is very honorable. You leave it to work for Malfoy! Are you on something?"

"Am I on something?! Why do you talk to me as if I'm fifteen years old! Of course I'm not 'on something', you idiot! And I am working for Malfoy, I don't care, he may be a bastard but at least he's a smart one! I'm making a good amount of money, something we definitely need, and I enjoy what I do! Something wrong with that picture? Am I too happy for you?"

It turned out Ron was upset because I was making more money than he was now, and he was childish enough to have a problem with that. I looked at the clock. Six in the morning. Ron would be up soon, I knew he had Quidditch practice today. He had told me last night that he would be gone for three days straight. "Intense Quidditch practicing," he'd said lightly. My arse. I knew he'd probably spend two of those days in a bar. I buried my hands in my hair again. Maybe I'd go see Draco…I couldn't help myself anymore. I really was in an affair, and I was beginning to love him.

A/N: Yeah in the beginning the chapters are going to have a lot of flashbacks. Tell me if you like it better in first person or in third. Please Review. 


	3. Spinach

A PostHogwarts Affair

A/N: Not much to say, except that I felt like writing. oh and Lizzie—thanks for reviewing, any way you can get me any more reviewers? *grins*

I moped around the house for a bit before deciding to wake Ron up. Finally at seven-thirty, when he was still snoring, oh _snoring_, away, I walked up to him and yanked the covers off.

"Get up," I said, trying to be patient.

"Ouch…geroff, 'Mione, I'm trying to slee…"

"No, Ron, you're going to be late! Don't you have to go down early for that Keepers' Breakfast?"

He sat up and looked around wildly. "Oh, yeah…thanks, Mione, you're a life saver, what would I do without you…"

"Probably die drinking," I said playfully. Although Ron and I weren't love compatible, he was still a good buddy. Only a buddy, though.

He laughed and got up. "Well, without me you'd be like a Hogwarts professor or something," he said yawning as he reached for his watch. "Holy shit! It's seven-thirty! I'll be in the shower and then I'm out, sorry no more time, I'll call you later or something, alright, love?"

"Don't bother," I told him brightly. "You probably won't find the time."

"Yeah, you're right. All right then, I'll see you in a few days. Pack my trunk, will you, sweet?"

Obligingly I threw in two outfits, a razor blade, a toothbrush and a hairbrush into a duffel bag. Then I apparated myself to work.

As I entered the busy atmosphere of Malfoy, Inc, I took a moment to observe my surroundings. His decorating--or rather, his decorating staff's--was impeccable. Elegant marble flooring and beautiful enchanted vines that grew across the ceiling giving the whole place a very calming effect. I loved it, in short. I walked briskly down to my office, a roomy little place with huge crystalline windows, and sat down upon my desk. About five minutes later, my secretary walked in with a huge stack of papers. "Sorry," she said with a small smile. "Today's basically paperwork day."

I grimaced. "Fun," I said as I flipped through the packet. "Will you get me a coffee?"

"Of course. Black, I presume?"

"Yes," I said, waving her out with my hand. "And quickly." 

About ten of the papers were an in-depth report on the Muggle company Viacom. One of the moguls of the media, I supposed. I knew it was a great idea to invest in them; obviously Draco had done his research. I smiled. I had not seen him in a while, and our affair was a fairly new thing. I was also beginning to realize something else. It was only an affair on my part. We hadn't actually done anything, but the attraction between us definitely sparked. I knew it was only a matter of time before I actually did something with him, but…that was what love meant. I could wait, just as long as I got to see him. I could wait. I really understood what it meant, something incredibly different than what happened with Ron. 

Before I could invest in any new business venture, such as Viacom today, I had to check with the head of our company. Of course, Draco Malfoy. I buzzed with excitement as I told my secretary to make an appointment with the head of Malfoy, Inc. 

"He says he'll discuss it over lunch with you," she called back in ten minutes. "Meet him at the Mosaic Café at twelve-thirty, he says."

I felt a small tingly sensation as I heard these words. A date. A real date! I hadn't gone on one since my marriage four years ago. Ron and I didn't 'date'. We hardly went out; we didn't really have enough money for that.

At twelve-thirty, I left my desk, absolutely famishing. I apparated myself to the Mosaic Café, probably one of the nicest new hot spots in the young, modern, business, yuppie wizards world. It was damn expensive, but I had heard the food was to die for. More than anything, I was excited that I could finally see Draco.

At exactly twelve thirty-four, I found myself staring at the grand emerald colored steps of the Mosaic. Green, I noted with a small smile. I had taken to noticing little details like this after I'd gotten married. Maybe it was because I was bored.

As I walked in the bright colors seemed to jump out at me, giving the whole place a very positive look. Good, I thought grimly. I'd been awfully pessimistic lately. The waitress led me to the table where Draco sat, looking bored and sipping red wine.

"Hey," I said, smiling up at him. Butterflies in my stomach, and all thoughts of Ron flew out the window.

"Glad you could finally make it," he said, glancing at his watch.

"What? I'm four minutes late!"

"Punctuality, darling, is vital for a businessman…or woman."

I laughed. "Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, it won't happen again."

"Now that's the attitude I'm looking for."

"So, anyway, down to business," I said after I'd ordered a glass of red wine and the lunch special.

"Mmhmm. So what business interests you? Besides getting in my bed, I mean."

"Draco!"

He grinned childishly. "Sorry. I forgot you were with the Weasel."

"Oh, no, it's not that…" I said and trailed off. Was I really doing this? Was I really forgetting I was married and embarking on a physical and emotional relationship with another man; no less my former enemy?

"Really. You don't love him anymore? Found a new boy toy?"

I tried to hold them in but tears sprung to my eyes. Couldn't he tell that there was something deeper than physical attraction I felt? I'd never loved Ron; how could he even be audacious enough to think that? I tried to make out that I had something in my eye as I wiped my tears away with my wrist.

"Mione?" He said quietly. I looked up. "I'm sorry," he continued. "I didn't mean that."

"No," I said, sounding a little wobbly. Great. Confessions of a drama queen. I probably looked like a blubbering idiot. "My fault. It's just…I…don't…" I didn't know how to tell him that my marriage with Ron was only an illusion. Nothing more.

"You can tell me," he said, his silver eyes once cold and unfeeling filled with strange but welcoming warmth.

"It's just that I don't love Ron," I said in one breath. I counted the seconds as I waited for his reply.

Only a tremor of surprise flickered across his face before he resumed his natural, emotionless look. "I figured as much," he told me after a few moments. "And of course, the rumors."

"Rumors? What rumors?"

"The ones about you posing nude for Playwiz." I looked up, horrified. That was the wizards' equivalent of the ever popular Playboy.

"What!" 

He laughed. "There's the Mione I know. Cheer up, I was only joking. No, seriously, there are an awful lot of rumors about your husband's drinking habits."

"Oh, that," I said disdainfully. "He'll drown himself in the stuff one day."

"Just be careful," Draco said. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to my favorite employee!"

I was tickled. From I-hate-that-filthy-mudblood to I-wouldn't-want-anything-to-happen-to-my-fave-employee. Hilarious, really. "You've changed," I said, teasing.

"And you've got spinach in your teeth." Abruptly I closed my mouth, fishing with my tongue for it. He laughed. 

"You look lovely doing that," he said. "Just so seductive. I love the way your tongue makes your mouth bulge like that."

"Shut up."

"Anyway, business."

"What business? You know this normally doesn't take longer than ten minutes; why'd you invite me out to lunch?" I hoped the answer was what I was looking for.

"Because," he said, handing me a toothpick (which I took feeling rather embarrassed), "You're amazing to talk to."

"Is that all?"

"And amazing to look at."

"And…?"

"Amazing to be with."

We moved closer towards each other, my heart beating with excitement I hadn't felt in four years, our lips almost touching until he pulled away abruptly.

"Hold it," he said, smiling. "You've still got spinach in your teeth."

I laughed as I got up to go to the restroom. "Why don't we arrange another business meeting sometime," I said, "And we'll get back to this."

"Of course. I'm always on the job."

And so it had begun. My affair with Draco Malfoy.

A/N: Well, what do you think? Any comments? No comments? JUST REVIEW!!


	4. To Tell or Not to Tell

A PostHogwarts Affair- Chapter 4

A/N: I can't believe I'm updating so quickly! I think it was inspired by my reviewers, there aren't too many of you guys but I still love you all.

The rest of the time that Ron was away went by rather quickly, as usual. Occasionally I wondered what he was up to. Draco had brought up a very interesting question the other day, and I really had begun to think about it.

Did Ron chase after other women?

In all honesty, I didn't really care if he did. A year ago, I would've cared. A year ago, I would've sat home with a box of bon-bons and a copy of Witch's Weekly and cry my eyes out.

Not anymore.

I didn't know what it was. Maybe it was the fact that I was seeing someone too. Or maybe it was just because now I knew for sure that women didn't interest Ron. Nothing interested him except that damn game. I wasn't saying that he was gay; I was perfectly sure of his sexuality but he just didn't care that much about anything except the Chudley Cannons. We hadn't had sex in three years. 

__

I hadn't had sex in three years.

The realization hit me like a bullet. What kind of a freak was I, wasting away my twenties, my blessed twenties, by being so chaste? And how come Ron and I never 'did it' anyway? I sat there with a bottle of butterbeer, trying to figure out the answer. Sure, the first year we'd 'done it' some because it was so obligatory for a newly married couple. It had been really strange, being with a friend…well lover-friend…and it had just died out. All the romantic things had died out. I hadn't even properly kissed him in three months.

God. What was wrong with me? How come I had just realized that we weren't meant for each other?

Shaking my head in small disbelief, I debated whether or not to contact someone. I've never been any good at keeping secrets, and I was exploding with news. Surely I could trust somebody with the news that Draco and I were interested in each other. But nobody from the Weasley family. Too bad Ginny was my best friend. And too bad Harry was Ron's best friend. I sighed, here was something else I had to keep all to myself.

The days went by rather quickly and Ron came home, looking like something the cat dragged in. 

"Ron!" I screamed. My beautifully scrubbed tiles! Since there was so little space, I kept it spotless. Everyone knew about my perfectionism, why was Ron, my _husband_ for goodness sake, ruining my beautiful floor?

"What is it?" He sounded bored.

"Get off my floor! I just cleaned it. Look, you've ruined the shine! It's all dull now!" I hated dull floors with a passion; they were one of my biggest pet peeves.

"Is that all you care about? Look at the state I'm in! Don't you even care why?"

Feeling ashamed as hell, I answered him in a small voice. "Sorry, I'm just…protective of my floors. Anyway, Ron, what happened?"

"Got mugged on the way home. They took my broomstick!" He moaned and sat down, his face buried in his hands.

I sighed. The broomstick, a Lightning Strip, was Ron's most prized possession. He'd paid so much money for it; it was the hottest new thing to have.

"I'm sorry, Ron. D'you want to report it?"

He looked at me and scowled. "Go report it, will you, while I shower?"

"Ron! I'm supposed to go meet Harry at the Karma Pub in ten minutes," I said, glancing at my watch. Every Wednesday night, Harry and I got together just to laugh out life's stress. This usually excluded Ron, he went out with his Quidditch buddies mostly, and he got to see Harry other times. Harry and I in fact preferred not having him there; this way we could actually get some time together without Ron butting in with Quidditch stories. Not that that was a bad thing. Some were quite funny.

He rubbed his eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh. "Well, if you must…"

"Of course I must. In fact I'm going to go change, so you'll just have to report it." On a lighter note, I added, "I really am sorry. I'm sure it'll turn up."

" 'Course it will," Ron said, although he sounded rather doubtful, "It's only a matter of time."

The sentence was oddly chilling. It was only a matter of time before Ron found out.

Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting with Harry in the noisy Karma Pub. It was a new one for both of us; we tried to rotate pubs and clubs as often as possible to 'spice up' our boring lives. We'd both ordered a shot of gin and drank heartily as we talked.

"Life's a butt," Harry complained.

"So fart."

"You mean, let it all out?"

I laughed. "Yes, just make sure nobody's there when you erupt."

"You're disgusting."

"I know. Ron's immaturity rubs off, you know."

He smiled. "I know, I know, it's been four years but I still can't believe you guys are married."

The smile on my face died. I was beginning to dread telling people I was married to him. How come everybody had seen that we wouldn't work out? Ironically, as I was thinking, Harry continued his rambling--"Don't take any offense, but I honestly didn't think it would last this long. I'm so proud of you, Hermione, mak…"

"Harry, don't." I took a long gulp of gin, trying to drown out his words.

His voice changed from a reminiscent tone to that of concern. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

I took a deep breath, not really sure if I was ready to tell Harry. And then there was always the possibility that Harry might tell Ron.

"I…Harry," I said, imploringly.

"I'm listening."

"You can't tell Ron."

He paused. "Okay."

"Look…it _isn't_ working out between him and me." I said quietly, a little nervous as to what his response would be.

"Oh?"

"Yeah…I can't believe I didn't see it earlier but…Harry, I don't…love him."

Harry sighed. "Tell me about it."

"Wait…do you mean, tell me about it, as in, tell me what's going on, Hermione, or can you relate?"

He smiled. "Both."

"Wait. What's wrong with your love life? You're dating Ginny, no?"

"Nope."

"How come?" I was really surprised. Here I had been thinking that they were going to tie the knot anytime soon, and Harry was telling me they weren't even seeing each other anymore? What was the world coming to?

"I dunno. She broke up with me a couple of days ago."

"Why?"

"I don't know! All she said was that she needed space. And the classic line, it's not you…"

"…it's me," I finished up for him. I reached across the table for his hand.

"You're not alone when it comes to relationship failures," I whispered.

"What's up with you and Ron?"

"That's exactly it, Harry. Nothing's 'up'. He doesn't even take remote interest in what I'm doing with myself."

"Not true. He was extremely pissed when you started working for Malfoy's company."

I gave a forced laugh, not wanting to let Harry know that his joke sucked. "Yeah, only negative things."

"It's not that bad, is it?"

"It is, Harry, you don't understand how hard it is to live with someone who just disappears for a bit and then comes back, drunk as an old geezer, and…"

"It could be worse, Hermione."

"Harry, you don't bloody get it. It could be worse, but this is enough! I can't take it anymore! And now that I've started seeing…" I trailed off, cursing myself inwardly. That's what I get for ranting, I fumed. Slip of the tongue and now of course Harry's going to ask who…

"Who?"

I groaned. "You're going to be mad."

"No, I won't."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise. Now who are you seeing?"

The words came out as a whisper; I was surprised that Harry even heard in the noisy atmosphere of the pub. "My boss."

"Your boss? You don't mean…"

"Yes," I closed my eyes, not wanting to see Harry's reaction.

"You're dating Malfoy?" Harry's voice boomed over the pub and about half of the people there turned to stare at him.

"Harry," I muttered, my face a mushy tomato, "Not so loud! And I'm not _dating_ him!"

"Then what're you doing with him?"

"I don't know! That's the thing, I don't know!"

Harry looked at me with determination, and I succumbed, telling him everything from beginning to end.

"So basically you might be starting an affair with…Malfoy."

I nodded wearily. Heck of an evening, this was. 

"And what about Ron?"

"What about him?" I responded angrily. "It's not like he cares about me."

"Well…I just don't want you to get hurt. You know Malfoy's pretty well-known for never having had a serious relationship."

"I know," I said miserably. "But I…really fancy him."

Harry grasped my hand. "It's okay. And I won't tell Ron, but you'll have to tell him sometime." He looked like he wanted to say something more, but was at great effort for keeping it in.

My heart went out to him. I reached across the table and hugged him, my very best friend. I was thrilled. He understood. The question was where to go from here?

Individual Thanks:

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ILUVRONWEASLEY- Hmm, does my bum look big in this? That's a good story, btw, and thanks for reviewing. Here's the update!

I don't normally do those, so I thought I would. 

Sorry I didn't have any Draco/Hermione interaction. This was a rather boring chapter, I know, but it's just…needed. Bear with me! Anyway, REVIEW!


	5. Moping and Midlife Crises

A Post Hogwarts Affair Chap 5

A/N: I really **NEED** more reviews for this. So, after reading it, you **NEED** to review. And if you like this, please read either The Enemy or Delusion by me!

The rest of the week passed by in a blur. At work everyday, I strained my eyes and ears for any glimpse of Draco. To put it bluntly, I had become obsessed with him since the encounter at the restaurant. He had given me the illusion that he wanted me just as badly, that he wanted to continue the affair, that he was going to kiss me…

Had he really not kissed me because of the spinach?

Or was there something else?

Maybe he didn't like me.

I sat there, moping at my desk, doodling pictures on my third copy of the Viacom portfolio. He didn't like me, then. He had just been toying with me, his wolfish, Malfoyish attitude taking over.

I was just another conquest for him, I thought glumly, until I realized that made no sense. If I had been a conquest for him, he would have come conquered me by now, and he hadn't seen me in two bloody weeks.

I needed a drink.

I got up from my desk and after shooting a disdainful glance at the doodle of a little girl, I casually walked out, calling to my secretary that I was going for a walk.

"I need some air!" I told her.

"That's an awful good idea, Mrs. Weasley!" She called back. I cringed. Mrs. Weasley! I felt so _old_. A haunting picture of a fat, old woman holding a bag of soiled diapers and chasing after a little child screaming, "Time for school!" was created in my mind. I nearly fainted; that was not the way I had planned my life and I'd be damned if I followed that out.

"Please, Meredith," I called back to my secretary. "Call me Hermione."

On impulse, I turned around and asked her a very daring question. "Do you know where Mr. Malfoy is?"

"Oh," she said, smacking noisily on gum, a habit that bugged me more than dirty floors, "He's out of town."

"Business or pleasure?" I asked, pretending that I was mildly curious, when inside I was melting with an insatiable, burning desire to know every detail about his life.

"Pleasure. I think he's gone out with his latest little worshipper." I could practically smell the distaste in her voice. I totally agreed with her. Conniving little ladies' man! I wanted him, he was my escape from a life in hell and here he was servicing some bimbo up in Aspen!

My blood was boiling.

I walked furiously, as if the faster I walked, the further away I ran from my problems. 

By the time I got home that day, Ron was already asleep. I tiptoed into the bedroom and for a moment observed his sleeping mass. I sighed, and was horrified to feel the prick of tears come to my eyes. I hadn't wanted my life to turn out this way. I wished I was back in third-year, that time-turner would have done me good at a moment like this!

I began to muse as I thought about what he would say if he found out that I fantasized about Malfoy.

"Hermione!" he would yell. "You need to get to St. Mungo's, asap!" And he would scream the 'asap' bit really loud, AY-SAP! In spite of the irony of the situation, I chuckled, and so woke Ron.

"Hermione," he said groggily. "Seems all I see you these days is you waking me up."

I smiled. "It's because you're either 'practicing' or sleeping," I said playfully.

"Speaking of practice," he said, bolting out of the bed, "I really should get going."

I stared incredulously. "Ron, it's almost eight p.m."

"I know. We're going to practice in the dark, the night's cooler and all."

I pursed my lips and feigned a smile. "Well, you better get going then."

He nodded, and made his way to the bathroom.

As he was in there, I began doing some thinking of my own. This was my opportunity; I could find out whether it was just booze he chased or women as well. Not that I really _cared_, it was just mild curiosity, the kind a best friend exhibits.

I pulled out my book, Sneaky Spells for the Spineless, and looked up a memory-reading spell. All I needed to do was see Ron's memories for this night, what he did, who he saw, if he even touched a bloody broomstick. I flipped open the page and read up on the spell, which was rather simple. All I needed to do was perform the incantation on him before he left, and when he came back perform the counter incantation, in which all his memories would make a copy of themselves instantly and transfer into my mind. Sort of like DNA, I thought. And nearly slapped myself. I was still a nerd!

Ron came out of the bathroom in a pair of shorts and a Chudley Cannons tee shirt. "_Transferium memorius_" I muttered, pointing my wand at him as he looked in another direction. He spun around rather abruptly.

"What did you say?"

"When are you coming home? Tomorrow?" I asked, cleverly ignoring his question. 

"Probably," he said, and sashayed himself out the door.

I noticed that his broomstick was still lying in the corner of the bedroom.

It didn't mean much anything though. He had plenty.

He probably missed that special one that got mugged however.

I sighed. All my questions would be answered soon. All I needed was patience. So I sat and daydreamed about Draco Malfoy.

A/N: Short, I know, but I'm in a rush.

Next chap will probably have D/Hr interaction so be patient, please!


	6. Capriciously Confused

A Post Hogwarts Affair, Chapter 6

I waited quite patiently for Ron to come home, my curiosity burning more and more every second. It was pointless trying to stay awake—what good would that do me—so I finally crawled into bed and hoped that my dreams were interesting.

'Interesting' was mildly putting it. I dreamt dream after dream about Draco Malfoy—our lives together, going out with him, making love to him, and…having children with him.

I woke up in a cold sweat. I didn't want kids; I'd never wanted kids. They guzzled your money and kept you from getting a very good career. It wasn't to say I didn't enjoy little children—they were very cute and I didn't mind babysitting for two hours, but that was my limit. But here I had just dreamed about having children with that stupid git! What would my fifteen-year-old self say? I'd always hated him, and I was married to my best friend, and I'd rather have babies with _Draco Malfoy? _

But the children had been adorable, with wavy blonde hair and chocolate colored eyes and…teeth in need of dentistry.

I rolled over and checked my watch. It was seven a.m., definitely time for me to be up. The day was Saturday, thank Merlin I didn't have to go to work and fantasize about Draco while he was living it up with some bimbo.

Why was he doing this to me?

I quickly showered and ate and by the time I was done it was eight. I looked at my clock impatiently and waited. Ron still wasn't home! 

On impulse, I decided to call up Harry. He knew about everything, and obviously Draco wasn't interested in me otherwise he would have made some move by this point, and maybe Harry could help me get over my sudden infatuation.

But I kind of liked it. It was fun to actually hear my heart triple beat when I saw him, or even increase slightly when I thought of him. And the thought of kissing him made me want to melt.

Then again, none of my fantasies were going to come true at this rate.

Before I could contemplate anything further, the door creaked open and a very frazzled looking Ron walked in. 

"Hey, you," I greeted him as he entered.

He yawned. "Later, Hermione…let's go out tonight, yeah? But right now I need to sleep…"

While he turned around, I whipped out my wand and made sure that his memories were transferred to mine. But before I could delve into them, his words registered in my mind. Let's go out tonight? What had gotten into him? We never went out! Maybe something interesting had happened.

Without further ado, I tuned in.

__

Ron had just exited the house. He apparated to the team's Quidditch field where he met up with some friends of his. The three of them then walked to a nearby club and ordered three shots of whiskey. The club was overcrowded, and people were becoming very rowdy.

I scowled. It was exactly the type of scenario I didn't like. I hated rowdy parties, the kind that gave me a headache, and I hated when there weren't any sober people for miles. But here Ron was in such a state.

__

Ron became drunk very quickly, and soon he was laughing pointlessly at everything. A young woman walked by and Ron and his friends hooted appreciatively. The woman turned towards the three of them and giggled. She pulled one of Ron's friends to the dance floor and the two were lost among the sweaty bodies. Ron and his remaining friend ordered some more drinks. Ron had had about three glasses of fire whiskey when another woman walked up to them and lead Ron's other friend away. Ron sat by himself in the bar and struck a conversation with the bar tender. "Hey, babe," he drawled to the female bar tender.

"Why, hello, there," she said, smiling. "Want any more drinks?"

Ron began laughing hysterically. "Yeah, gimme a shotta vodka!"

The bar tender poured him a shot and Ron gulped it quickly. Then suddenly he stood up and left the bar. He walked out into the cool air and screamed to the empty streets, "It was too hot in there!" and then…

I almost stopped watching; my aversion was so great. Ron needed help. He could not continue to drown himself in alcohol! I tried not to think about the memory I had just seen--Ron wouldn't remember it because he had been drunk at the time, but it still stayed somewhere in his mind, and I'd seen it. My husband, Ron Weasley, had grabbed a couple of people from the bar and started _streaking_ through the empty streets, yelling, "I'm a married man, boys! I'm a married man, boys!" at the top of his lungs.

If he kept that up he wasn't going to be married for long.

I was oddly relieved to find out there weren't any permanent women in Ron's life…but I knew that if this was the extent to which he drank, he probably had plenty of one-night-stands that he didn't even remember.

But enough of it! I didn't know how to help Ron, but he needed the help. 

I decided to walk down to one of my favorite wizard pubs for some fresh air and to get my mind off some very disturbing things. When I got there, I ordered a butter beer and sat down in a corner, trying to sort out my thoughts and think of the best way to help Ron over his alcohol addiction.

Or maybe he liked getting drunk. Maybe he did remember it all; maybe he wanted to live life immaturely. Gods. If that was the case, he was in even deeper trouble than I thought.

As I was brooding over my thoughts, I heard a very familiar drawl ordering a drink. I looked up and my brain registered, "Draco Malfoy's profile! Draco Malfoy's profile!" He looked absolutely stunning, with blonde hair hanging down and a small smile playing on his lips…wait. What the hell was he doing in town?

He was out on a pleasure trip, wasn't he, so why was he in a small pub in London, all alone and ordering (I strained to hear his order) butter beer?

The conniving little devil! Why had Meredith told me he was out of town, just yesterday? And she had given the impression he wouldn't be back for a very long time.

"Oy, Malfoy!" I called out before I could stop myself. He turned around, surprised.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his expression narrowed. 

"I could ask you the same thing," I replied. "I thought you were touring the Bahamas."

His scowl deepened. 

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, motioning to the seat next to me, "Do have a seat."

After what seemed the longest pause, he sat down next to me and drank a sip of butter beer. He seemed deep in thought, and I took the opportunity to study him. It was hard to believe I really hadn't noticed it before. He was quite good-looking; he'd improved drastically since the days at Hogwarts. He was no longer skinny, although he was still incredibly pale. But I liked it all. 

"So, how long do you plan on staring at my stunningly sexy looks?" he asked casually. 

I was mortified. Letting out a small squeak, I turned away, bright red, and muttered, "What makes you think I was staring?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it was your intense gaze upon my handsome face?"

I turned, if possible, an even darker shade of red. "Not true. Anyway, why aren't you out of town like you said you were?"

"I was out of town."

"No, you weren't."

"I just got back about an hour ago."

"Liar!" I could not believe him, his small grin was enough to give him away. Which was actually very unusual--he usually hid his emotions very well.

"Really," he said. "I was. I was in France with Marie, my latest…well, ex-girlfriend now."

I sneered. "How long did you do her…I mean, go out with her?" I asked innocently.

He laughed, and my heart began to beat even faster. "Four days," he replied nonchalantly. "She was quite happy that I'd given her the time of day. In fact, four days is a long time for me to spend with a girl."

My face must have considerably fallen, but I tried to be stoical about it. "Okay, fine," I sighed. "You were in France with Marie and now you're back. But somehow your story isn't credible."

"Why do you care so much, Granger?"

I flinched. He still thought of me as Granger…and yet the other day, he'd leaned in like he was going to kiss me, he'd apologized to me, heck he'd even called me Hermione! What had I done?

"I do not," I said, trying to pretend as if I really didn't. 

Before we could speak anymore, someone cleared her throat behind Draco. He turned around, and the girl handed him a stack of papers.

"The reports you wanted on a Ronald Weasley, Mr. Malfoy," she said.

A/N: A special shout-out to beachLEMON…yeah. You guessed right about Draco. Thanks to everyone that didn't give me a one-line review! I love you! I'm sorry, guys, but it's a cliffy! Well I got you some promised D/Hr interaction but I might not update for a LONG time if I don't get any reviews! So what are you waiting for? You know the drill! Review! 


	7. Discombobulation

A Post Hogwarts Affair Chapter 7 

My mouth must have dropped open and I spluttered, "You wanted papers on Ron?" in the highest-pitched voice that I could have ever imagined.

He didn't say anything for a bit, but when he spoke, his answer was crisp and laconic. "So?" he asked.

I nearly chucked my butterbeer at him. What was he doing, messing with my mind? One minute, he seemed to fancy me just as much as I fancied him, and the next minute, he was still the mean, immature boy from Hogwarts, and then sometimes, he was something in the middle, just a platonic friend that I wanted to hurl off a cliff. "All you can say is _so_?" I cried incredulously.

 He shrugged. "I wanted to see what Weasley was up to. Do you have a problem with that?" His eyes narrowed.

His voice was so bloody confident; I grew a little unsure of my assumptions. Maybe he was just messing around, getting information on old schoolmates, or enemies, in this case. A few seconds later, it hit me. Bloody bastard was trying to reverse the tables on me! And he'd almost had me.

"That is not what you were doing!" I shrieked, trying to control my volume but it was a little difficult. 

"Then what was I doing?" he asked nonchalantly, smoothly.

I was puzzled. He could probably talk his way out of anything. "So, let me get this straight," I continued, feeling as if my plan had been thwarted, "You fabricated a lie about going out of town and actually researched Ron?"

He smirked, that infuriating smile that made me want to slap him…or kiss him, I couldn't quite decide. "Weasley isn't worth all of that," he said contemptuously.

"So you really were out of town?"

We glared at each other, and I could see sparks of fiery in his eyes. I remembered my Hogwarts days for a second before he spoke. "No," he finally said. "I wasn't."

"And why not?" I replied, still glaring.

"Private matters."

Before I could say anything else, he'd grabbed the papers from his secretary's hand and stormed out of the pub. Astonished, I turned to his secretary. She gave me a pitying glance and then hurriedly ran—well, to the best of her abilities, in her five-inch heels—after him. 

I stayed in the pub, staring at the door. Both Malfoy and his secretary had disappeared by this point. In a fit of frustration, I threw my butterbeer away and stomped out of the pub. Two minutes later I was out in the cold weather and severely regretting my rash actions. I needed to talk to someone about this. I wanted to talk to Harry again, but he wasn't "available" as he so delicately put it. We all knew he was probably out girl-stalking. It was one of Harry's favorite pastimes.

Well, he didn't really _stalk_ them, because most of them were more than willing to be stalked. So I guess it didn't really count. 

The only person I was close to, besides Ron, was his little sister Ginny. And I just couldn't tell Ginny! What would she say if she found out I was…romantically interested in someone besides her brother?

She'd tell Mrs. Weasley and then I would be beat to death by a frying pan.

And I loved Mrs. Weasley. I loved the whole damned family, but…I didn't really love Ron. 

Against all my better judgments, I ended up flooing myself over to the wizard beauty salon that Ginny owned. Making my way through the palatial salon, I finally reached the back where Ginny's office was. I smirked when I saw her. She was busy applying eye shadow and make-up to her already embellished eyes. Attitude of a very posh beauty salon owner. 

"So this is what you do at work?" I asked. She looked up, disoriented for a second before she finally noticed me.

"Hermione! You scared me!" she gasped.

"That was the intent, wasn't it?" I asked, sitting down on one of the plushy pink sofa chairs.

Ginny reached over her desk and pulled me into an awkward and messy hug. "It's been ages," she declared.

I nodded. "Yeah. I kind of wanted to sort some stuff out with you," I began. 

"Not here," Ginny said, snapping her make-up case shut. "Let's go to a café or something?"

I shrugged.

Twenty minutes later Gin and I were standing in front of a very exclusive café that Ginny claimed she frequented quite often. And why not? Makeup is always a good thing to invest in.

She pulled me in and I immediately felt very out of place. Sure, I liked expensive things every now and then, but I wanted to crawl under the floorboards and Avada myself. I was the only woman who didn't have her hair up in a fancy upsweep, the only woman who was not wearing designer couture, and the only woman who hadn't a trace of makeup on. I felt like something Ginny'd picked up off the streets.

But Ginny didn't seem to notice. Instead, she dragged me up to order, and I nearly fainted when I saw the prices. "Gin," I whispered. "I can't pay three galleons for a _cup of coffee_!"

"My treat," Ginny replied casually. She ordered two vanilla lattes and I watched with interest and horror as she dropped six galleons onto the white marble countertop. She was so different from her brother—Ron had to save every knut; we spent as little as possible so we could send money to his parents and the rest went to his Quidditch needs or, now, my work needs. Here Ginny could drop six galleons on coffee and she probably spent this kind of money almost every day. I had never realized that Ginny was, well, filthy rich. As was Draco Malfoy. I scowled as I cursed myself for thinking of him. This morning he had clearly shown that he wasn't interested in me…by gods, he was more interested in Ron! The mystery came flooding back to me and I tugged on Ginny's shoulder.

"Look, Gin, I'm having an emotional crisis!" I said impatiently.

"Just a sec, Hermione, the lattes are almost here…ah, there they are."  Grabbing the lattes, Ginny sashayed in a perfect model's walk to the nearest glitzy table.

I sat down, feeling awkward as I sipped the latte. It was much too cold, and there wasn't nearly enough sugar to keep me content. It figured, really, that expensive places such as this one would really have bad coffee. I preferred to stick to coffee mixes from the local corner store.

"Okay," Ginny said passively as soon as she was comfortable, "tell me everything."

I smiled. Ginny's weakness was just her immense curiosity for everything, which sometimes got her into trouble. 

"Well, I don't know…I just…I'm not…" I trailed off, annoyed to find myself at a loss for words. 

Ginny took matters into her own, perfectly manicured hands. "Hermione, tell me everything! You will not leave a word out," she commanded bossily in the only voice that I ever really was submissive to.

"Okay, okay," I sighed as I began my long story. However, every three sentences, Ginny had to interrupt.

"So, I wasn't very pleased that Ron was _always_ playing Quidditch or drinking something, an—"

"Ron isn't _always_ doing that, Hermione, sometimes he comes and visits me or goes over to Harr—"

"Gin, that's not the point. So as I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted, I was awfully upset with the way life was going, and then when I was down at Dia—"

"Hermione! How come you didn't tell me you weren't _happy_? I'm supposedly your confidante, some confidante I turned out to be…" Ginny sputtered.

"Honestly, Gin, if you don't let me finish I'm going to have to _Silencio_ you in order to," I almost screamed. 

Ginny grinned sheepishly. "Fine."

"No interruptions?"

Ginny sighed exaggeratedly. "I won't say anything until the end."

Satisfied, I continued my story. "Well, anyhow, I met Draco Malfoy in Diagon Alley, and to my surprise, he was actually quite civil to me."

Ginny's eyes grew wide but to her credit, she didn't say a word.

"And it…just grew worse. I started thinking about him…a lot. And then he offered me a job at Malfoy, Inc, you know, the company he owns…and I got a really good job too, fantastic paycheck…"

Ginny nodded; this was something she could easily understand. But I could tell she wanted to speak very badly.

Smiling mischievously, I continued the tale of my distress. I felt rather like the damsel-in-distress sort of thing, and it was a little unnerving, but I hated the position I was in. I was attached to my emotionless life and Malfoy, Draco, whatever I thought of him as now, had really toppled it all over. 

"So," I finally finished up. "I asked him why he lied, he became incredibly defensive and fed me enough lies to confuse me, and then stormed out on me," I sighed dramatically, signaling the end to the story.

"Can I talk now?" Ginny asked irritably.

I laughed. "Yes, of course. I need you to help me…and Gin, please, please try to understand that I do love your brother…just not in a romantic way." 

Ginny nodded. "Don't worry," she said. "I wouldn't have berated you anyway for that. You don't choose who you love, it just happens."

I was astounded at Ginny's philosophy, but at the same time, I really liked it. "So…you're okay with all of this?"

Ginny scoffed. "Of course not. You are infatuated with Draco Malfoy. We've all detested him since we were eleven, and he has hated us just as much, if not more. So, why in bloody hell would he offer you a job, take you out to lunch and act like he's interested in you, suddenly disappear from your life as if you are nothing but a mere employee, and then the next time you see him you find out he's getting papers on Ron? If you ask me, he's got a multiple personality disorder."

I snorted and Ginny gave me a look. "You know, you've really got to develop a better way to laugh, Hermione. Snorting is extremely unattractive."

I snorted again. "I can't help it, Gin," I said, through tears of mirth. "I love your take on life."

It was Ginny's turn to laugh. "So, what're we going to do about all of this?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. That's why I came to my love-and-sex-life-not-that-there-is-any-of-it-adviser-extraordinare, Ginny Weasley."

"Who is currently single," Ginny added glumly.

"Oh," I said meekly, as I remembered that Harry'd told me weeks ago they'd broken up, "Yeah." I didn't quite know what to say. Before I could help it, insensitive words tumbled out of my mouth. "So how's that going for you?"

Ginny scowled. "You are so bloody honest," she reprimanded me, "You never cover up what you want to say."

I shook my head in contradiction. "Not true. Anyway, we are deviating from the topic. Which is our love lives, or lack thereof."

Ginny put up her hands in mock defeat. "All right, all right, forget I even brought it up. Shall we go back to talking about how bloody crazy Malfoy is?"

 I nodded, a little panicky that Malfoy had become my new favorite topic. 

A/N: Huge thanks to reviewers! I really appreciate it. I am so sorry it took me forever to update, normally it won't take that long but I've been awfully busy. Also, like I said in my other story, don't expect any more updates for any of my stories until at least December 17th. I've got midterms, *sigh*. RECOMMENDED FIC: THE BACHELOR BY FLUFF. Go read it, everyone! It's quite fun!

Certain reviewer responses:

**Sam8** – A very Ginny filled chapter, hope this satisfies your need for Ginny in the fic! Thanks for reviewing, I really appreciated it.

**LMTran**- I was thrilled to see your long review! Thanks so much, yes, I was aware of Fluff putting me in her fic, and as you can see it's my turn to do a little advertising. Thanks for reviewing!

**Dragonfly315**- While I really do understand where you are coming from with the voicing Draco and Ron's thoughts, I chose a first-person point of view and I really can't, I hate that but I love it at the same time. So everything is based on Hermione's thoughts, you'll have to find out stuff at the same time as her, I suppose. Sorry! But thanks for reviewing!

**Labordor**- So far, I don't have any lemons planned out. The rating's PG13. Thanks for reviewing!

**To everyone that asked if Draco really was out of town or not**: You'll have to decide, based on what Hermione knows. The truth shall come! Heheh!

Thank you all for reviewing!

And with that, I'm out. Hopefully I can get some reviews? Maybe? 


	8. Fashion Frenzy

A Post Hogwarts Affair Chapter 8 (finally!)

After my talk with Ginny, I felt different, in an odd sort of way. She'd convinced me that I wasn't completely nutters when I said that I fancied a dolt and wanted to get rid of my husband. She'd also brought up another issue that I hadn't exactly allowed myself to think of.

Divorce.

Yikes. But hell, if my fantasies in some wild and weird way came true, I couldn't exactly have two husbands. Ginny had shown me two very clear options. "Hermione," she'd said, as if I was an idiot not to have thought of this before, "you can either stay and fancy him from afar, you know, married women get these feelings _all _the time, or, you divorce Ron and charge after Malfoy like a bull."

"Or an animal in heat," I'd replied rather scathingly (and Ginny had given me a scowl so fierce I thought she resembled Malfoy). 

But now I had to make this choice. Either chase him or forget about him. Chase him! Now that was a laugh. A real laugh. Me, Hermione Granger, lowly little bushy (well, not so bushy anymore, but still frizzy) haired study loving self acclaimed nerd chasing a man? Ha! Not likely. And forgetting about him? When I saw his face in everything, including my silverware? Even less likely.

I had to invent my own choice. The sit-and-do-nothing choice. Forget Ginny's advice. She could have her parties and her money and her glitzy clothes and her blasted _choices_ but I was going to sit on my arse and do absolutely nothing. Sounded great to me.

But I wanted him. A lot.

And I was afraid of divorcing Ron. What if he accidentally drank himself to death or something? And what if Mrs. Weasley excommunicated me from the family? I loved them so much; she'd practically adopted Harry and me, although in the beginning she did like Harry better (oh no! It was because she thought I was playing two boys at once! Gods, this was getting worse by the second!). I was so lost that the third, silly option that I had created was beginning to seem like the right choice. Sit and do nothing.

Or better yet, I smirked to myself as I found a solution that resulted in the same thing that sit and do nothing would result in, let Malfoy choose. There was no way in hell he'd fancy me; I'd given up on him because he was a fucking tease, sometimes doing this and sometimes doing that and just tearing me apart, the bastard, and this way I didn't exactly have to divorce Ron. I could live in my fantasies, because Draco would never choose me. 

Draco? Since when had my brain registered Draco instead of Malfoy? Shit. This was a lot deeper than I thought it would go.

It was in this state of absolute frenzy that Ron found me when he came home two hours later. "Hermione," he said, giving me a rare smile. "What are you doing?"

"Oh," I said meekly, suddenly realizing that I was sitting at our coffee table just staring off in space quite randomly, "just…thinking."

"Thinking! I thought you'd stopped that after Hogwarts," he said, grinning. Why was he in such a good mood?

"Anything on your mind, Ron?" I asked, a bit befuddled. 

"I expected you to be ready by now, Hermione," he whined. "I told you we were going out tonight."

Oh. Something I'd completely forgotten with everything that had happened--from Draco Malfoy suddenly being back in town (like he was ever out! Did he think he could fool me? Smartest witch in Hogwarts?) to the talk with Ginny to this whole deciding business. "Yes," I said dumbly. "Where are we going?"

He smiled mischievously. "It's a surprise. Now go get dressed."

I pattered to my bedroom, feeling a little odd at the situation. Throwing my closet open I suddenly realized that I didn't exactly own anything fancy. "Ron!" I called out. "Do you want me to wear robes or a dress?"

"The muggle clothing, okay?"

"I don't have any!" I called back frantically. "Well, I do but it's this really old dress that I haven't worn since I was seventeen. It's ugly as well."

"Just wear it, Hermione!"

Grumbling, I pulled out the fading teal green dress and surveyed it with distaste. It was particularly ugly; I grimaced at the thought of actually having to wear it (again). "Ron," I said nervously. "This thing doesn't seem to have a neckline." 

It was true. The dress was a high-collared Chinese grandma kind of dress. I was not about to step out of the house wearing something so…blah.

"Can you just tell me where we're going?" I finally asked him in desperation. Maybe I could apparate to the nearest department store (oh, ha, like that would work…just apparate in front of twenty-three muggles) or transfigure this stupid thing into something a bit nicer. 

He sighed. "Honestly, don't you like surprises?"

"Not at times like these. Just tell me already, Ron, or I'm going to have to hex you." I was pissed. The stupid dress was making me very upset and I wanted to tear it to shreds and throw it in the dustbin. But no, Ron had to go off on this "oh hurry up it's a surprise!" thing and I had to actually wear the rubbish. 

He looked a bit taken aback. "Wow, there, Hermione," he said nervously. "I thought you might like a surprise. But if you must know, Parvati Patil is having a party for a lot of the Hogwarts crowd! Isn't that great! We'll get to meet up with old friends!"

No.

Not great.

The words were rushing in my head like an ocean wave and I wanted to shut the roar off but wait…Parvati Patil was having a party for the ex-Hogwarts crowd? What?

"How come I didn't hear about this?" I asked, my eyes narrowed. 

He shrugged. "Dunno. You're always off in your own little world, aren't you?"

__

I was always off in my own little world? _I_ was always off?

"I'm not the one in a pub nearly twenty-four hours a day!" I yelled, shoving the dress in his face and stomping out of the house.

"Where are you going?" I heard him holler behind me and contemplated not replying, but a little nagging conscience got in the way.

"To buy a nicer dress, Ron! And I don't care if I spent three thousand galleons on it but if we are going to go visit Hogwarts people then I am going to at least look half-way decent!"

My voice felt hoarse after screaming at him. I'm sure that I looked like a coffee-depraved lunatic running down the streets in the way that I did, but I was seriously enraged. And frustrated.

Ten minutes later I found myself in a popular but very expensive little boutique that many witches frequented, even though it was a muggle store that sold muggle dresses. Apparently the latest fashion is a dress, after all. The clerk smiled widely when she saw me. Maybe it was because I looked a bit crazy, and she thought she could make me buy a lot of stuff. 

"Hello, Miss…?" she began. Even her voice sounded store-bought. High and lilting, almost like the pouring of a champagne glass.

"Hermione Granger," I replied, looking her straight in the eye. She backed off a little bit. 

"Well, pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Granger."

I smiled, relieved to hear the address I hadn't heard in three years. No more of this Granger-Weasley or Weasley business. Back to plain old Hermione Granger. The woman wouldn't know the difference if I told her I was unmarried. I could pretend all I wanted.

"Same to you," I replied cautiously.

"Now is there anything in particular that you are looking for?" 

I told her that I wanted a nice evening cocktail dress and she smiled knowingly. "Fancy get-together?" she asked as she whisked out one dress after another. I nodded. "Oh, here's one that I think will be absolutely perfect on you!" she said after a few minutes.

The dress was rather pretty to look at. It was a cherry red ("beautiful with your complexion, my dear!") that shimmered slightly as it moved. The neck looked rather low but I agreed to try it on anyway. It was the sort of dress that draped your shoulders casually but gave off a striking appearance at the same time. 

When I tried it on, however, I wasn't so sure. I had been right. The neckline _was_ low, dangerously low. "I don't think," I began, turning to the sales lady.

"Darling! It looks absolutely stunning, doesn't it, dearie?"

I debated, throwing furtive looks at the looking glass and admiring myself every now and then. I did look good. Well, you could see a tad bit more cleavage than you normally found on my clothes, but it didn't look sleazy or anything. And the woman claimed I'd get used to baring this much. "Absolutely stunning," she repeated happily.

Only when I got to the counter to purchase the aforementioned thing from hell that made me look quite different did I realize why exactly she was so happy. It was the price tag on the dress that made it a worthwhile thing to wear, I suppose. 

"That will be five hundred pounds, m'dear," she said, all bubbly like. I nodded faintly but fished out the British currency that I carried around out of habit, even though most of the time I was dealing with knuts and such (Galleons were out of the question. Ron got those. And his parents.). Luckily I barely managed to have enough. Dropping the coins on the counter with as much confidence that Ginny had displayed the other day (or so I hoped) I smiled at the woman as she rang up the dress and commandeered my money with surprising grace. 

Just as I was about to depart from the store, she called out behind me. "Miss Granger," she said, and I turned around, surprised. "With such a lovely dress," she told me, "I think you should visit a hair and make-up stylist as well, don't you think, if you want to look spectacular tonight?"

Hair and make-up?

Something I hadn't exactly thought of. But she was right. If I just wore the dress it would look like oh-Hermione-got-frustrated-and-splurged, but if I came in with a stunning hairstyle (something I hadn't exactly displayed since the Yule Ball and my wedding) and exquisite make-up then everyone would talk about me. Something I really wanted for tonight. I couldn't really explain why.

I smiled and thanked her and exited the boutique quickly, a bit annoyed that I had to make yet another decision. I wanted to just use the potion that I usually used to make my hair sleek and shiny but that thing took at least an hour and a half to brew, and as I checked my watch, I realized there was definitely not enough time to first brew the damn thing and then actually apply it in my hair. No. I'd have to do it the muggle…well, I was going to go to a witch salon. I'd seen an ad for one in _Working Witch _and knew it was located somewhere near here. 

After about twenty minutes of searching I finally stumbled upon the salon. I walked up to it, hoping they took walk-ins and hoping they wouldn't straighten my hair, simply because I thought that might look a little fake and I wanted to give off the impression that I could look absolutely ravishing all the time. A witch greeted me as I walked in. Her hair was arranged in a marvelous updo and I had to appreciate the work of this salon.

"How may we help you?" she asked upon my arrival.

"Er…" I began, a little unnerved. After all I didn't do this sort of thing everyday. "I need to style my hair for a nice party I'm attending tonight."

"Alright. Any particular style you want or shall we do what we think is best?"

"Um…you do…what you think is best. But please don't…straighten it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she said, cracking a smile to reveal yellowing teeth. Unconsciously I ran my tongue over my own teeth, hoping they were white and clean. 

She sat me down in one of the large chairs and handed me a magazine. I flipped through it without really reading the words. I was, to say in the least, quite anxious as to what they were doing with my hair. Thirty minutes later (I suppose wizards speed up the time) I found out exactly what they had done with my hair. My first thought was "oh no". My hair was in an up-sweep, with little tendrils curling around my face. I hadn't realized it but they had layered my face with make-up, so my lips sparkled a deep red and my eyes glittered smoky through dark eyeliner and a smoky silver eye shadow. Uh-oh.

"Eh," I said weakly, trying to adjust myself to the image. It's just for one night, I reminded myself. Just one night. Tomorrow you can go back to bushy haired and boring brown eyes. 

I paid for the startling image change and left rather quickly, wondering what Ron would say when I got home. How would he react? I nearly giggled, something that I don't allow myself to do, as I thought of the reaction that he would have. 

When I got home, I could see that Ron was frantic about my disappearance. "I'm home, Ron," I called to him, feeling a bit snarky about it. It was a very un-Hermione thing to do, after all.

"Hermione!" he gushed when I got home. And then he stared at me. And stared some more. Just when I was worried that he might faint, or worse, laugh, he smiled slowly. I could tell it was a bit of a strained smile but it was a smile, all the same.

"You look…different," he said, stuttering.

I smiled, still feeling rather daring. "Yes. Are you ready to go to her party, then?"

"Er….yeah. We'll just Floo then?"

"Sounds good to me," I said, clearly avoiding my appearance. Obviously he wasn't really in a hurry to talk about it either. "So, is Parvati married now? And is she inviting just our year?"

"Um, no, I think she's single but engaged…and no, she's not inviting just our year. She's inviting all of her friends and acquaintances. It's a rather huge party, I think."

I smiled sneakily. All the better to surprise you lot with, my dears.

A/N: Well, it turned out a bit different than I 'd expected. Sorry about the long delay. Just a few notes: **LMTran**- I love your long reviews. I hope this chapter was eventful enough for you; next chapter will be even more eventful. **Gingitsune Girl**- Ron goes to the boozer whenever he feels like it. 

Please review! I'd really appreciate that. 


	9. Party Hard, Look Harder

A Post Hogwarts Affair Chapter 9

Important author's note: All right, a lot of people told me either that they didn't like Hermione's appearance change or asked why Ron didn't seem to care. The answer is that the change is not drastic at all. She looks…spruced up, you could say--she wanted to show everyone that she looks…professional all the time. She just looks plain nice and pretty, not as stunning as yule ball but an improvement over her drab attire and all…she's accentuating her features, basically. I didn't think that people would find it to be really drastic, but it's quite subtle. Ron's reaction was basically…oh, different. Cool. 

A Post Hogwarts Affair

Ron gave me Parvati's address on a slip of paper and disappeared within seconds, his red hair nearly merging with the fire as he went. Up to this day, Floo was not my favorite means of transportation. Namely because I wasn't so good at it.

Not to mention that Ron's handwriting was downright difficult to read. I looked at the scrawl for thirty seconds, trying to decipher the street's name, and eventually came up with 28 Warsworth Street. Speaking as clearly as possible, I yelled the address to the fire and hurtled through the air. 

And landed, quite predictably, with a thump onto cold hardwood floor. Someone rushed towards me, an old woman with an enormous bosom and a pair of spectacles big enough to match, who reminded me slightly of Ron's mother. "Janice!" she was calling. My vision slid perfectly back into focus and I looked around worriedly. It most certainly did not look like a place where Parvati would even set foot in…if I was correct in assuming she did not have old, almost molding, yellow furniture and ratty rugs littering the floor…not to mention many, many still life pictures of eggs. No, that did not sound Parvati-ish in the least. "Janice!" the woman called again.

Another, younger woman, scurried over and clucked--actually clucked!--when she saw me. "What's this?" she asked disapprovingly. Ignoring the warning signs going off in my head, my temperamental side took charge and before I knew it I had drawn myself up to my full height of 5"2, trying to pretend that it was rather intimidating. But I was in luck. This woman Janice was actually shorter than me, and the old woman reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley was even shorter than that. Interesting. 

"Excuse me," I barked, trying to sound bossy, firm, and polite all at once--after all, it was my fault I'd barged into their house. I guess Floo was just out to get me. The woman's scowl got deeper.

"What is this?" she repeated, looking over at the old woman.

"Janice, darling, I heard a little thump and I came over to see what it could possibly be…and here this girl was sprawled out all over our parlor!"

I didn't say anything. I just wanted to get to Parvati's house and I didn't even have that silly slip of paper with me. Ron! I thought miserably. His handwriting was just so terrible, not that I could really point fingers, mine was just as much of an intelligible scrawl as his. "Er," I began. "I was trying to get to a…friend's house…and I must have misread the address. Is this, um, 28 Warsworth Street?" 

The women glanced at each other. "Yes, this is 28 Warsworth Street."

"Looks like you're in a right pickle, aren't you, dearie!" the older woman said with a small twinkle in her eyes. What a time to have a twinkle! My anger was growing by the nanosecond, but I reminded myself that politeness in a situation like this was truly important. After all, I was in a 'right pickle' wasn't I. Gods!

"Ma," the one called Janice began. "Isn't there a street a couple of blocks down, what's it…Wadsworth Street? Maybe that's where you want to go?" Janice asked.

I was perfectly willing to forget my initial dislike of her at the moment. "Oh, yes, that sounds right," I fibbed. Whatever. As long as I got to leave from here. Figuring that they had to be wizards of they were so accepting of someone just dropping in their house randomly through their fireplace, I asked if I could use some Floo powder, and the older woman cackled, shoved the powder in my hand, and waved goodbye as I clearly stated my new destination. 

When I landed, which surprisingly, wasn't on my bum, I looked around and immediately noticed a glitzy, hazy, club-like atmosphere. So far, so good. And oh! There was Ron! I was thrilled; I was in the right place; I was ready to move. Although the party mood had been slightly spoilt by Janice and her mum.

Parvati hurried up to me the minute I'd collected my wits and hugged me tight so before I could even recognize who it was I was smelling some flowery perfume. "Nice perfume," Parvati, I said snarkily, trying to portray that professional aura I had created about an hour ago. 

"Hermione! It is so fabulous to see you!" Parvati exclaimed. "What took you so long? Ron came fifteen minutes ago!"

"Long story, Parv. So who all have you invited?" I asked casually, scanning the crowded atmosphere. By gods, it seemed like she'd invited half of Hogwarts. I could make out a Seamus Finnigan, and oh, Hannah Abbot, Millicent Bulstrode…? "You invited ex-Slytherins, too?" I asked, surprised.

"Oh, yes, why not? I knew them and it's not a reunion-esque party without all the houses…we ought to put our differences behind sometime!" she shouted happily. Shouting of course, because of the absolute noise of the party. Honestly. Parties are really not my favorite past time. Not only are they raucous and loud, they are tiresome and require way too much effort. Nevertheless I was going to behave all sparkly, professional, and suave at this party. I had to set a good impression. I mean, Hermione Granger…forget the goddamn Weasley bit…graduated from Hogwarts, number one in her class, and ended up not working and married to a Quidditch player who was never home and most of all lived a drab and boring life? No. I was Hermione Granger, president of the Muggle Division of Malfoy, Inc., smooth, debonair, married to a handsome Quidditch player, and had a lovely life. That was the image I wanted to portray at this party, because I had to, had to, had to show people what I had accomplished. It's just this never-ending drive in me, I suppose. I'm overly ambitious. Ron's overly drunk. We make an interesting couple, I suppose. 

"I agree!" I shouted back to Parvati, pulling myself out of my thoughts. "So, I hear you're engaged!"

Parvati shot me a wicked look, as in hell-yes-and-we're-not-waiting-till-the-wedding-night. Typical Parvati. My smile faded, but quite dimly, because once again, I had to keep up with the whole sophisticated look that I was going for. "Yes!" she screamed. "I'm getting married to, can you _believe_ it, Blaise fucking Zabini!"

"Why the fucking?" I asked, sneakily. I knew perfectly why.

"Cause I'm the one fucking him!" she screamed. "Can you believe it! I never thought that I'd ever know him, let alone date him!"

Blaise Zabini. That quiet Slytherin, rumored to be either the most evil of the lot or the nicest Slytherin. We never found out, but Parvati probably knew. Then again, I wasn't going to get anything out of her except for his prowess in bed. "That's fantastic, Parvati," I said sincerely, but she had waved me off by this time, attending to her other guests and of course Blaise.

Blaise was here, Millicent was here…she'd invited Slytherins. Before I could stop myself, my disobedient mind had already wandered over to territory marked 'unstable'. I indulged myself with thoughts of a certain, blonde, and schizophrenic Slytherin that I was secretly and madly obsessed with.

Of course I had to scan the room for blonde hair, gray eyes, and a cocky attitude, but it was a lot harder than I thought. I had to make sure nobody was watching me, because, what if they could read minds and knew that I was looking for Draco…and also, the lighting was dim and blonde hair wasn't exactly simple to recognize in dim lighting.

"Fancy meeting you here, Hermione," someone drawled behind me. I spun around on one foot and came face to face with…oh, only Neville!

"Hey, Neville!" I exclaimed, trying to act pleased. I should be pleased. It was wrong not to be pleased but when I'd heard a lazy drawl I guess I'd expected that crazy Slytherin.

He reached over and pulled me into a hug, and I was surprised that I couldn't feel gobs of fat on him. He looked spectacular, really. "Hermione," he said happily. "You look stunning. So sophisticated!"

I beamed, I glowed, and I basked in that wonderful, lazy drawl of his. Had I ever said I didn't like it? Nah. Draco was pushed to the back of my mind as I had this lovely conversation about how sophisticated I was with Neville Longbottom.

Ron came up to me soon and gave me a lopsided grin, one of the only things I'd married him for. Oh, I was bad. I was so bad. Trying to eliminate the nasty thoughts I kept getting, I focused instead on what he was saying.

"Hermione, what in sweet Jesus took you so long to get here?" he asked, cheerfully.

"I told you I hate flooing," I said, sighing in mock-defeat. He always insisted we floo because it was easier than apparating to an unknown place, but I preferred summoning up all the concentration in the world than going through another Janice-and-ma ordeal.

"This party's great, isn't it?" he asked casually. I noticed that behind him Ginny and Harry were in a serious talk.

"Are they reconciling?" I asked, nodding my head towards them.

He shrugged. "They told me to get lost because they were sorting out issues. But I seriously doubt they're getting back together."

My voice cracked as I spoke, because everything that I'd once considered perfect was splitting up…it had always been Ron and me, and then Harry and Ginny…Ron and I hadn't acted like a married couple for three years, and then Harry and Ginny had broken up…everything was changing. And I wasn't sure if it was good or bad. Only time could tell. "It's sad," I finally said.

He nodded. "Yeah. Hey, I'm going to go grab a martini, okay? You want one?"

"No, that's okay. Easy on the drinking, all right, Ron?" I said, worried for the poor guy.

He grinned. "Don't worry. This isn't a bar, for chrissake."

"I know."

Ron disappeared into the throngs of the party and I was left alone. I looked around, wanting to chat with old classmates but wanting to spot and possibly stalk Draco as well. During my quest for Draco, because I just couldn't get my mind off of him and I had to know what he thought of me…he was acting so insane, so impossible to trace…I talked to so many classmates I couldn't even keep it straight. There was Lavender Brown-Finnigan, and Susan Bones, and Dean Thomas, and Ernie Macmillian, and Justin and Hannah Finch-Fletchley, Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Baddock, Malcom Baddock…tons and tons of people.

Surprisingly, the ex-Slytherins were pleasant. Pansy pointed out that I looked so much better than my silly "rag doll" days at Hogwarts, as she kindly put it. But hell. If Pansy likes the sophisticated look, it's got to be subtly very, very good. 

Something's wrong with me.

Anyhow, I couldn't help but drop hints to Pansy as to ask where in the hell Draco could be. "So, Pansy, did you meet a lot of your housemates here?" I asked, casually, dropping the question into the conversation very slowly, carefully, and inconspicuously.

"Oh, yeah," Pansy said, grinning. "Malcolm met a lot of his buddies--Marcus Flint, Blaise Zabini, and all of them…I met up with Millicent Bulstrode, Sally Anne Perks…some of the younger years…"

Disappointed that she hadn't mentioned Draco, the boy we all knew she lusted after at Hogwarts…or at least, we all knew through the grapevine, nothing was ever certain (like the rumors about Harry and me? Where did they get those? And those silly things about Neville and his toad. Honestly.), I probed further. "So, Pansy, um, meet up with the git from hell?" I asked, hoping she'd assume it was Draco.

"Oh, Draco Malfoy?" she asked with a wistful smile. Once a luster, always a luster…but she knew who I was talking about!

"Oh, Gods, the ferret," I said, half-jokingly half-seriously, hoping that the I-don't-really-give-a-damn-about-him-I'm-sophisticated-sexy-and-just-generally-nosy side of me was showing. 

She laughed. "Yeah, hmm, I don't know, I haven't seen him. I don't think he's here."

I choked on the glass of water I'd been holding. "Not here?" I sputtered, and then promptly turned red as a beet. So much for savoir-faire. "I'm just surprised…he was…quite the character of the…um, Slytherin house, wasn't he?" I bluffed.

She gave me an odd look, but I smiled back as humanely as possible, really hoping that the silly statements I'd made were being bought…and luckily, she didn't question. "I was surprised myself. Parvati invited so many people, I thought he'd for sure be here. Or maybe he just couldn't come, or he's late…whatever. I wanted to meet up with him too. I haven't seen him in three years!"

Three years. It's been awfully significant. Hmm, Ron and I have had no romantic yearnings for three years, Draco and Pansy haven't met in three years, I haven't had sex in three years, I hadn't bought new clothes up till recently in three years… I wonder if it means anything. Probably not. I'm just a conspiracy kind of girl, I guess. 

I walked away from Pansy, disappointed yet elated at the same time. Disappointed because, of course, I wasn't going to be able to ogle at Draco, and elated because I knew it was just plain wrong. I'd read somewhere that married women get crushes all the time, start fancying young men or so, but Draco was different. He wasn't just a little eye candy, although the hair certainly helped. He wasn't overtly muscular or anything, in fact, he was rather skinny…and he wasn't young either. My age, I didn't know his birthday so I couldn't pinpoint it. Damn. I couldn't compare signs either.

What was _wrong_ with me? 

Compare signs? I never compared signs! Signs were silly, divination-esque things that I most emphatically did not believe in. Astrological signs were plain bull shit as far as I was concerned.

So how come I was so interested in his horoscope? That Muggle thing that everyone knew didn't ever come true. A spin-off on divination. And something I had suddenly developed deep fondness for.

As I was lost in my thoughts I heard that same deep lazy drawl that I'd heard earlier and mistaken Neville for Draco. Now as I looked up dismally I fully expected it to be anyone but Draco. And to my surprise and horror it turned out to be him!

He wasn't looking in my direction; he was chatting with the host of the party, Parvati. I moved closer to, Merlin forbid me, eavesdrop on the conversation, which brought me back to my earlier question…what was wrong with me? Eavesdropping? Horoscopes? Stalking? All signs of a very obsessed and deeply troubled young woman with a massive fancy on a certain blonde haired prat. I was done for.

"Sorry," he was saying to Parvati. "I had this important business call, didn't mean to be so late."

Parvati was checking her watch. "Oh, don't worry, it's only eleven, parties don't start swinging till then anyway…here, have a beer, it'll calm you down."

Draco accepted the beer and took a swig and for a second nausea washed over me, just the way it does when anyone drinks. I think this has happened because of Ron's alcoholic habit, which if he doesn't fix soon I am most definitely getting him help soon. I used to love the stuff myself, but since Ron's misused it I'm very careful of drinking. In fact I usually don't drink at all.

"Thanks, Parvati," Draco said, and walked away from her. A part of me commanded me to follow him into the crowd, while a stronger part demanded that I glue my feet to the ground and not try to look for him all evening. Like that was going to happen. Before I could make up my mind in either direction, the bloke was actually walking up to me! I was frozen already, no need to glue my feet to the ground. Terrified I looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Had he seen me eavesdropping? Please don't be handing me work, I begged. Now was really not the time…could he please just not walk here…please…

"Hermione," he said warmly, and I was very surprised at his voice. Yet another thing to add to my steadily growing list of why I shouldn't be obsessed with him. Erm, maybe the fact that he's, er, crazy? Flip-flopping personalities, too?

"Draco," I greeted weakly, holding out my hand.

He took it. "You look different," he said with a sly grin (yet another personality switch? Why was he doing this to me?). "I like it. It's snarky."

I shot him a witty smile, or so I hoped. "Well, thanks. I just got a bit bored, thought I'd experiment."

"Shall I get you a drink?" he asked casually.

A drink? No, no that's okay. "Oh, yes, that'd be great." What was I saying! I didn't want to drink, I had enough examples in front of me that the stuff really wasn't very good for you, could be rather dangerous, and I couldn't help it, sometimes I got paranoid. But here I was, accepting the drink, just because _Draco_ had offered it to me? Seriously. My self-control, self-image, and self-esteem were plummeting. I did not need a man to make me happy in life. What the hell was I doing!

"What would you like?" he asked, although he didn't give me a chance to answer when he handed me a shot of vodka.

Of course, the minute I touched it to my lips, I remembered how fond I'd been of it. I downed shot after shot…in fact, we downed them together. He took one, then I took one, together we were pushing our limits, our stomachs, our minds…

"More?" he slurred and I giggled. 

"You're so funny!" I said, basking in the attention he was giving me.

"You're so cute," he replied, slapping the table with his pale hands.

The rest of the evening was blurry…the night faded into day and I knew I was missing something when I went home with Ron in the wee hours of the morning.

A/N: Ok, well, we'll find out exactly what happened with drunk!Hermione and drunk!Draco in the next chapter. I just had to post, it's so late here, like almost one a.m. and I'm finishing up the chapter! Oh, um, I just posted a dark one-shot called Coruscating Scarlet…merely advertising, you may ignore if you wish. Well please review! I'd really appreciate it. A huge thanks to everyone who's reviewed this story and gives me comments. It's all so motivational. 


	10. Unfortunate Circumstance

A Post Hogwarts Affair Chapter 10

"Hermione," someone was saying. "Hermione!"

I could barely open my eyes, but somewhere in the back of my mind a little bell went off. I knew the speaker… but why would it be…

"Harry?" I asked groggily, succeeding in getting those damn eyelids off my eyes. He was looking at me rather disapprovingly. 

"Finally!" he chided, but with a half-smile. I was relieved. It was just something about Harry; I couldn't bear to have him mad or upset at me about anything. It drove me up the wall. Harry and I just had to be on good terms, otherwise, both of us were something awful depressed until we made up (we'd discovered this the hard way, of course. We're just those kinds of people). 

At that moment the full force of a full-blown hangover hit me like no other. All I could mutter was "Har—wan" and somehow he understood and performed an anti-hangover charm on me faster than you could say "Hermione was an idiot and got drunk!"

When my vision was back in focus and the dull pounding in my head only a sign of stupidity, not alcohol, I smiled apologetically at Harry. "Sorry darling," I sighed. Only then did last night's events hit me. I had gone _home_ with _Ron_…what the hell was I doing here with Harry? Speaking of, where were we anyway?

"Um," I began intelligently. "Um…"

"Hermione," Harry said firmly, "you're in deep shit."

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious," I frowned. "Where are we?"

Harry shook his head at me, as if he felt sorry for me. "Hermione, we're in my apartment, and you're in my bed, and it's one-thirty in the afternoon. Anything else you'd like to know before I lecture you?"

I almost didn't want to ask. What was in store for me? What had I done? I felt like I was the student and Harry was…Professor Snape or something. Torturously terrifying! "Er," I finally asked, "um…didn't I go home with um, Ron last night? To…to my own house?"

"Nope. I had to drag you out of Parvati's place. It was tough."

"Tough?" I squeaked. "Why was it… _tough_?"

"Blimey, Hermione! Do you not remember anything?"

I knew I'd remember the minute Harry would tell me something, but he seemed intent on drawing out the process. He had to do the whole stern-older-brother look even though we never treated each other like siblings! It was beginning to annoy me, but then again, the lack of anything edible for the last…oh who knows how many hours was probably another factor in my suddenly cranky mood. 

"I need food," I said sheepishly, even though I knew I'd changed the subject. I wasn't quite sure I needed…well, wanted to know what happened. Why not put it off like everything else I'd ever done in my life (after I graduated…during school I had to get everything done four weeks in advance). I could procrastinate couldn't I? I always procrastinated…why shouldn't a potential-ruining-of-my-life be any different?

Harry griped but told me to hold still while he went down and got me something to eat. "I don't cook," he informed me half-coldly, "but I can get you some cereal or something. You don't really have a choice, I'm afraid."

"Oh, cereal…cereal sounds good to me," I replied, even though in truth I wasn't too fond of cereal (perhaps this was because I had eaten it every single day for four years when I was in college because I refused to learn how to cook). 

Five minutes later, I was downstairs, wrapped up in some old tattered robe Harry had lying around the house, sitting at his glass breakfast table (it was gorgeous, the most intricate patterns I'd ever seen—must've cost the poor [who am I kidding] kid a fortune!) and chomping down on some stupid wizard children's cereal, Stix N Snitches. And it was quite literally sticks, shaped like tiny little wands, made of marshmallow, I think, and miniature hard candy shaped like snitches, with little bits of wheat cereal thrown in here and there. I wondered how these kids kept up with their perfect teeth, with all this terrible food that I'd never had as a child—parents were dentists, of course—and then I remembered it was because they had magic. Duh! 

Harry finally descended downstairs, showered and dressed, and looking a bit melancholy. "Well," he said, "guess I better inform you of last night's happenings before you leave."

"The time has come," I said exaggeratedly, trying to make light of the situation. Harry grinned for a second but quickly turned it off. I swear the kid's as good as Malfoy. Well, almost.

"So, you got stone drunk with _Draco__ Malfoy_, your _boss_."

"I know that much. I remember…downing shots…vodka, horrid but delicious all at once." It really is, actually—guess it's the buzz. It's not exactly the most pleasant of drinks but I can see where Ron is coming from—speaking of I knew I had to talk to him immediately. As soon as I extracted myself from this mess, of course. 

"Yes, well anyway, here's the part where you screwed up…so you're drinking, and he says something stupid like, 'Hermione, tell me about yourself' and you um, tell everything."

I didn't know what to make of Harry's statement. What did he mean 'everything'? Ha, well, I didn't really care if Draco knew what color underwear I was wearing. As long as he didn't see it or anything…oh damn! What if he had?

"Harry," I began nervously, "I didn't by any chance…um…sleepwithimdidI?" I asked all in a rush.

Harry, who was particularly adept that morning at understanding my gibberish, shook his head and laughed bitterly. "You did something a little bit more embarrassing in the long run."

"What?" I sqeaked.  
  


"I told you. You told everything. The stalking. The eavesdropping. The hoping. The talking with Ginny. The horoscopes. The trying to figure out his angle. The checking if he was really out of town. The fucked up relationship with Ron. Your hidden feelings for him. How cute his … _derriere_ was. But that's not the worst part."

Nothing could sum up my emotions at this point. I was aghast, perpetually depressed, and had a sudden want to go drown myself in the nearest lake. Harry had to be kidding, he totally had to be… 

"You're joking," I stated weakly, although I knew he was telling the truth. Harry was an awful liar, worse than me even (and that is saying something). "I told him…!"

"Nope. You told Lavender Brown—after you told Draco Malfoy that you'd be right back."

I was confused, tired, and wanting to slap the closest thing to me. "What do you mean?" I moaned. "Wouldn't it be better if I told Lav than if I told Draco?"

"What's up with you today! Obviously it would be loads better to tell Draco because then only he'd know about it. Lavender? Everyone will know about it by six p.m. tonight! _Including_ Draco! And she will exaggerate! And your life will be over! I don't know what the fuck was up with you Hermione! Why'd you overdo it? You have examples shoved down your throat on the horrors of being stone pissed, and yet you choose to drink! I can't believe you. I really can't. Just because a certain fancy of yours offers you a drink are you going to take it! Great morals, Hermione. Just fucking amazing. You make me feel so bloody proud of you. Congratafuckinglations. Oh and did I mention you came onto me last night!"

Harry's rant rang in my ears but the only part I really heard was the last line "you came onto me last night". I came onto him. I came onto him?! I couldn't believe it! What the hell? Suddenly I was furious. I was tired of all this screaming and yelling and on top of totally humiliating myself in front of my horrid boss (or well, soon to be totally humiliated in front of my horrid boss) I had just come onto my best friend? I wasn't even aware of feelings for him! Never mind that, I didn't have…those kinds of feelings for him! Right now I just felt like vomiting all over his awful, ugly table. 

"Shut up," I snarled, raising my hand up to wipe the tears that insisted on escaping.

He looked at me.

I hated his stare. For a second we just stared at each other, his eyes blazing green with anger and hopefully remorse (how dare he get away with screaming at me like that!) and my eyes, boring brown fired up with specks of angry black. Oh, I was so pissed!

Both of us were proud, too proud, to break the unnerving silence. Finally I took the initiative and began to speak. "Look…I couldn't have come on to you. You misinterpreted."

In response, he took of his shirt and showed me a soft bite mark on his left shoulder. "A misguided vampire, maybe?" I suggested helpfully, anything to rectify my…deed.

"I don't want to know what else I did," I finally said, the tears leaking through. Damn it, I'd begun to bawl like a big baby. 

He sighed. "You ought to know though, so you don't dream up terrible scenarios. You kissed me and… um yeah did that to my shoulder. Nothing else though. I dragged you home, and you… um yeah wanted to do stuff… but fell asleep as soon as I put you in my bed."

"Where did you sleep?" I asked sharply.

"On the sofa. Downstairs."

We both breathed simultaneous sighs of relief. Suddenly he reached over and patted me awkwardly. "It's okay, Hermione," he said sincerely. "Happens to the best of us. And…sorry for blowing up…just…already got one friend that's an alcoholic, you know, and I didn't really want to have two friends in need of dire help."

I smiled and smacked him across the wrist. "You're mean," I scolded playfully. "And I'm awful sorry about last night. That's so embarrassing."

"Ah, that's nothing. Wait till what Lavender does, and then you'll know the true meaning of mortal mortification," he said seriously.

"Harry!" I dropped my head down onto the table. "I'm so screwed…what the hell am I supposed to do?"

"I dunno," he said. "Maybe beg her not to tell."

"You know that wouldn't work," I rejected his answer. "It's not like she can help it. You couldn't trust her with a secret if you gave her all the money in the world. It's just that she can't keep quiet…that's no good."

"Memory modification?" Harry joked. "That's always helpful."

I sighed wistfully. "I wish I could, honestly. It's much easier than anything else. But I'm above that."

"Nah, you're not. You're just as bad as the rest of us. You proved that last night!"

I got up and frowned at Harry. "I've got to leave. I'll figure something out, of course, and I've decided to force Ron to sign up for the Wizarding Alcohol Support Group, WASG. Must go inquire into that, and we'll both be attending the meeting so he doesn't pull a Quidditch lie on me."

Harry grinned. "Sounds amazing. I'll tag along, later, perhaps… Gin won't be there, will she?"

"Probably not. Why?"

"Don't want to run in with her or anything. Things got really serious last night," he said, looking rather unhappy. I wondered if this was another thing that I had had the pleasure of screwing up. Seemed like I'd messed up quite a few more things than I had originally expected.

"What happened?" I asked almost nervously, afraid to hear that the answer would be, 'Well, everything was going alright, until you hit on me last night, Hermione' or 'Oh, yeah, you came onto Gin, scaring her off.' Merlin forbid anything like that had happened! Oh, it wouldn't have! No I wasn't that bad! 

"Nothing to do with you," he reassured, sensing my apprehension. "It's just I guess things didn't work out like I expected them to. It's really a shitty relationship anyway. She told me that basically I was a pig and she's now with some stupid ex-Ravenclaw that was a year above us."

I felt sorry for Harry. "Don't worry," I consoled him. "By this time tomorrow I too will have been thrown overboard, right off the Love Boat."

We both had a good laugh. "Love sucks," he said. "Or lust, or like, or dating. Whatever it is. I have no luck in it at all!"

"Neither do I," I responded seriously. "What's the chance I'll ever get with Draco? He's just my boss. He probably hates me."

"He doesn't. He was drunk too, last night," Harry said with a sly grin. Damn the man! He knew how to push my buttons; now I had sudden burning desire to find out what exactly had happened to Draco as well.

"What did he do?" I demanded.

"Not too much. I guess he's one of those rare people that get depressed as hell when they're totally pissed."

I giggled, in spite of myself—damn it! Even when he wasn't here that man could do so much to me!—and begged Harry to continue. 

"It was hilarious, actually. Went on and on about life's problems. Wish I'd recorded it somehow, it would be amazing to show that in public, make up for all the torment he caused me during Hogwarts, and beyond—bloody bastard. Sorry Hermione, you may find him all intriguing but I can't stand him. Anyway, yes, it was rather fun to sit and have a chat with the poor bloke."

"Tell me," I demanded excitedly. "Just tell me!" 

Harry smiled. "He talked a lot about growing up…he fancied Cho Chang, can you believe it!"

I couldn't. "You're joking. You two fancied the same… the same girl?"

"Yes. Made me repulsed, I thought the only thing he'd ever fancy was a skinned toad. Er, sorry, Hermione. But yes. It was awful, he lamented that I was the one who finally got with her even though it didn't end up working out…I s'pose he's been jealous of me forever because of that."

"Merlin, Harry, that's hilarious. Tell me more," I squealed. Gossiping! It's totally wrong and totally detrimental to one's image and confidence but hell if Lavender was about to tell the whole world about my embarrassing situations, then I might as well enjoy this…while it lasted.

"He also talked about Lucius wanting him to do better than you in school, and how he tried his arse off but was just beneath you, all the time. Really mad about that one, he was. Did you know he was terrified of Muggles as a kid? He was worried they lived in his closets, or something. Like the bogey man!"

  
Harry and I laughed and laughed. "That's amazing," I said, peaceful for a moment. "It really is. Poor kid. Scared to death of creepy, crawly…muggles!"

For a moment we were silent and then I decided it really was time to leave. "Well, I best be off," I said dejectedly to Harry, "to face my impending doom."

"Sucks to be you," he said easily. "Nah, I'm just kidding Hermione. You know you can always count on me, even though I'd prefer you keep your distance sometimes."

I was glad Harry had turned that into a joke. How degrading it would have been if he'd gone totally serious about it, which I had been really worried about earlier. I picked up my stuff and walked out into the ebullient sunshine, letting the warmth wash over my body. I forgot about everything for a second and then Lavender's laughing face came back to me. As I entered my own house, my brain tried and tried to think of a good idea that didn't involve some important magic, but after a good ten, twenty minutes, that Memory Charm was really sounding good to me.

Damn alcohol, damn myself, damn us all. Next step on the to-do list: sign Ron up, hunt Lavender down and tie her to a tree, and drown myself in some non-alcoholic stupor-inducing beverage. Not too hard, was it?

A/N: I apologize so much for this horridly long wait. I'm so sorry and I bet the chapter wasn't even worth it! Anyway I tried my best, thank you all so much, please review this chapter because I am so depressed right now (I just read JK Rowling's latest Q&A!) For those of you that don't know what I'm talking about, basically JK Rowling says, Draco and Hermione end up in book six/seven? NO! She does the whole capital thing too! It was utterly and completely depressing. It's put a real damper on my mood for the story, lol, didn't affect the non-HP aspects of my life though… haha, mostly everything then. But anyway, yeah, and she was also like, the problem is that all the girls fancy Tom Felton, but Draco Malfoy is not Tom Felton!

^to this, I say…I fancy the real Draco, straight from the books (of course Tom Felton is still number one). Does that mean she'll put them together?! It's really very disheartening, that's why I love this ship more than ever now. Well, before the A/N gets longer than the story, I'll leave you with a request to please review the chapter! *oh, and the word 'pissed' can also mean drunk, so when you see it in context with alcohol, that's what it means. 


	11. Firewhiskey and Family

A Post Hogwarts Affair 11

"I am _not_ going," Ron declared, looking at the big brick building with fear evident in his eyes.

"We'll all go," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Don't worry. The big-bad-alcohol-taking-away-machine isn't going to eat you."

"There's a big-bad-alcohol-taking-away-machine?" Ron whimpered.

"No, Ron," I snapped. "Harry (and here I glared at him) is being an idiot, as usual. We will all come with you; it's time you quit drinking!"

Ron sighed. "Look, I don't drink that much. I'm sober right now… look, I'm completely and perfectly sober."

"Well this is the first time in three months that I've seen you sober," I pointed out, "and I live with you! Isn't that insane? Don't you realize you need major help?"

"What's this place called?" Ron asked suspiciously, still refusing to follow us as we climbed up the steps.

"It's called Wizard Alcoholics Anonymous, based directly off of the Alcoholics Anonymous that muggles have. But it's much harder to quit something if you're a muggle; you'll have magic helping you out," I explained as I dragged him up the steps, Harry pushing him from behind.

"No spiders here?" Ron asked.

That made it final. He wasn't sober, no matter what he said. "Damn it, Ron," I said, through gritted teeth, trying to be nice—I did like him, a whole lot!—"What did you drink before you came here?"

"Nothing," he said sullenly. 

"Liar," Harry said wearily. "You had some of that Fiery Beer, didn't you?"

"Listen, I'd never had that brand before," Ron sighed helplessly. "If it makes you feel better I didn't particularly like it."

"But you drank it anyway," we pointed out.

"I guess that really means I'm an alcoholic," Ron said despairingly. "All right, let's go."

Feeling terrible for our friend we entered the building and shivered because it was probably three degrees in there. "Why do they keep it so cold?" Ron asked.

"Because they want to wake you from your drunken stupor," Harry said ingeniously. "Oh, look, here's the office."

A woman wearing spectacles, a tawdry green jacket, and light lipstick glared at us as we stepped in front of her. "How can I help you?" she asked, although her voice was far from pleasant.

"We need to register him for WAA, and we want to be there with him. We need some information about your program; how long will it take, how well it will work, what will come of it, how much will it cost, and when it wi—"

The silly bint cut me off with a low, "Hmph!"

Damn her.

"Down the hall and to your left is our preliminary WAA meeting. You're lucky that this one isn't quite full yet."

Harry dropped the correct amount of galleons on the counter, shot her a look, and we waddled our way down to the room. Stepping in it was like another cold breath of air and I huddled closer to the boys. 

The room was quite full; some families, some single people, but mostly couples. I grinned at Harry, who mouthed something like, "this makes me look so gay."

"Oh, please," I said playfully, "you're straight as an arrow."

"Arrows can be bent," pointed out Ron.

We turned our attention back to the rest of the room. Some people were clearly drunk, but for the most part everyone was sober and apprehensive. Finally a woman walked into the room. Thankfully she was not the same one as the lady at the welcome desk: this woman seemed a million times more conversational and apt for a job like this one than the other one.

"Welcome," she began lightly. "I'm so glad that each and every one of you is here today, whether you're here to help someone out or here to get help."

We all nodded, and even though I felt horrid for thinking it, I couldn't help but say yada yada yada in my brain and hope she would get to the important bits. She continued. "The first step to solving a problem is recognizing that problem, so congratulate yourselves; you've already recognized that you have one."

Ron raised his hand. Harry shot him a look and I lightly pinched Ron's elbow. The woman called on him anyway. "Yes?" she asked, a bit confused. "I really was just introducing everything, we can all ask questions and share our personal stories later…"

Ron didn't care. Instead he said suspiciously, "Are you sober?"

The woman looked aghast. "I don't drink," she told him seriously. "I'm actually in this field because…because…my father was an alcoholic."

I sighed and looked down at the ground. Ron had just set us up for the sharing period. The lady, who we found out was named Belinda Taylor, told us about her father succumbing to the "Evil" that was alcohol; how he felt its "clutches" at his hands; how he "pushed" it away to no avail.

The poor man had been drinking and flying when he had crashed head-long into another broom in the air and had tumbled to his death sixty feet below. It was devastating, and suddenly I was so glad I had brought Ron here. He had to quit.

We went around the room sharing our problems. There was a woman who said that she had to have eleven, count 'em, eleven Cosmopolitans everyday or she didn't feel complete. There was an older man who claimed that his own Irish beer was good for the heart, but his wife (an elderly lady who was absolutely stunning; I was jealous) had made him come and admit his "problem"—he didn't see one.

It was finally our turn and Harry spoke up for Ron. "Well, my best friend, Ron, and his _wife_, Hermione," he began, stressing the 'wife'; I suppose an effort to look straight, "have been having major problems. We've all been friends since our school days, and Hermione and I are very worried for our friend. We want him to stop drinking; it's ruining his marriage, his life, his everything."

Harry said it heartwarmingly and charmingly. With just the right amount of charisma sprinkled with a drizzle of pleas. 

Needless to say everyone clucked in pity, although our story was hardly the saddest. It was just Harry's puppy dog eyes, the disheveled black hair, the sorrow in his eyes, perhaps the childish voice cracking that Ron and I loved to make fun of…

When Harry sat down I informed him that his voice had cracked exactly and approximately three and a half times during his little speech. He sent me a look I suppose only Voldemort had seen before. Nevertheless, it was awfully entertaining. 

The session continued in such a manner, with everyone sharing stories, and making a goal sheet and questionnaire at the end of the session. Harry and I decided to fill Ron's questionnaire out for him as he was currently in no situation to do so. 

I stared down at the questions, appalled at the gall of some of them. The first was easy enough, however. "When did you start drinking?" We estimated that he had started somewhere around fourteen or fifteen, especially since the twins had been huge on the wonders of firewhiskey at that age. But as the sheet progressed, we were hesitant to answer some such as … "do you drink before sex?" or "how many one-night stands have you had under the influence of alcohol?" Not only were the questions probing and uncomfortable, neither Harry nor I knew the answers. We decided in the end to leave them blank, and moved on to Ron's goal sheet.

Filling in the blanks seemed easy enough – I WILL ONLY DRINK ____ BOTTLES OF ____ THIS WEEK. We put in "two" and "Filibuster's Firewhiskey" (Ron's favorite alcoholic beverage as far as we knew). Shoving it in Ron's face, I gave him a nice, long-winded lecture on the dangers of drinking and how he was absolutely going to adhere to his goal, however difficult it would be.

"And before you go," Belinda spoke up, "I'll put on a simple willpower charm on you which will bring out the maximum self-control you have!"

One _selveus__ fuertedum _later, Ron looked energized and pumped. "I won't break it," he grinned goofily. "You both have to help me."

"Of course we will," Harry reassured. "We'll come with you next week as well. Anyhow, I've got to go. I have a date in like, three minutes."

I squealed, in spite of myself. "With Ginny?" I asked excitedly. I somehow really wanted my friends to get back together; they were adorable, and I knew the perfect couple.

But Harry didn't seem to think so. Making a face he shook his head. "No," he said. "No offense Ron, but I am _not_ in the mood to say even one pleasant thing about your sister."

"So who's it with?" Ron asked dubiously. "You sure someone else actually wants to go out with you? Found that Creevey kid again?"

Harry scowled deeply. "Shut up, you. I'm actually taking out, well, Mandy Brocklehurst. We got to talking at Parvati's party, after I'd tried my best to reconcile with Ginny… but since we got such little time due to the mishap that…er, Hermione had… I decided to ask her out. I'm glad I did. Hope it goes well, you know?"

I smiled warmly, not wanting to continue on "Hermione's little mishap…" I gave him a huge grin and told him good luck, and watched as he Apparated away. Turning to Ron I informed him there was no way in hell that he was going to go "play Quidditch" i.e. drown himself in stuff today, and to my surprise he readily agreed.

"Let's go out," he said. "I feel so fresh, being sober and everything… that charm really helped. I know it wasn't supposed to make me sober, but it turned out to be a side effect, I guess."

"Ron," I began, "if you'd paid any attention to that special charms class that Professor Flitwick taught us approximately three classes from the last in seventh year, then you would have definitely known the side effects of certain charms such as, for instance, the willpower charm, or the personality trait charm."

"Gods," he teased. "You're incredibly boring. That's why I love you."

I froze. He must have noticed my discomfort because suddenly he became shy and awkward. "What? I'm not allowed to tell you that you're boring?"

I shook my head, still in shock with his words. I love you? What had he meant by that? Had he meant it in a platonic, silly, friendship sort of way? Had he meant it in the way he used to mean it when we were dating? Did he really love me like that? If he loved me he would never drink, never leave me every night in favor of a party at the hottest club…

"Hermione," he said, effectively slicing my thoughts. "You think way too much."

I shook my head. "I have to," I responded softly. "I have to keep up on top of things."

"Why?" he asked, just as quietly, as he moved closer to me. "Why do you have to be so perfect?" 

I closed my eyes, suddenly feeling light-headed and uncertain. Ron was too close; I didn't like this… didn't want this… 

I felt cool lips on mine and before I could help it I pushed him away. "Ron! What are you doing?!"

"What?" he asked, stepping away from me, disbelief etched on his face. "I'm not allowed to kiss my own wife?"

I'm sure I flashed disgustingly red but I shook my head, unable to speak for fear I would say something really hurtful. But I had alerted him to a problem he had previously been quite unaware of. "What is going on?" he asked darkly. "What is this? Why are you acting this way? I'm your bloody husband for goodness sake, and I'm not allowed to kiss you?"

"Ron," I replied, breathing heavily. "When was the last time you kissed me?"

He looked around the park that we had inadvertently walked to in our heated battle, swallowing hard. Forlornly he turned back to me and shook his head. "I dunno," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Ron, I can't do this," I said, all of a sudden finding words spilling out of my mouth. "I can't take it anymore. I love you so much… but only as a friend. Platonically."

He had moved his hands to cover his face and as a result his words were muffled. "What are you on about?" he asked, a dangerous edge to his voice. I could feel the tension and the seriousness of the situation between us, and even though I yearned to lighten it up a bit I couldn't think of a funny or easing thing to say. 

"I mean that," I bit my lip nervously. "I mean that … look, tell me honestly… look into my eyes and tell me you love me. Romantically."

We moved to a park bench and sat down, the cool metal relieving against my uncertainty. Ron gulped and turned towards me, and his brown eyes met mine. "Hermione," he began unhappily. "I… I…shit."

I couldn't help it; I burst into tears. "See, this is what I mean, Ron!" 

He nodded, putting his arm around me and trying to comfort my body which was still wracking with some very unwanted sobs. I hated to cry, I've always felt like it makes me look incredibly weak but I couldn't help it; my marriage was tearing apart in front of me.

"Ron…" I began slowly. "Ron, I want a divorce."

I could feel him suck in a breath and he turned to me, disbelief easily visible in his eyes. He let out an elaborate sigh, and whispered something to himself. 

Would he give it to me? I knew that as a rule pureblooded families weren't allowed to divorce, yet Ron's family was anything but the ordinary family. "Ron," I repeated. "Give me a divorce. Please."

I trembled as I waited for his response. After what seemed an eternity, he finally nodded. "I'll always give you what you want," he said shakily. 

We couldn't help it; the two of us had dissolved into a mess of salty tears. It was really over.

A/N: I'm sorry for the incredible shortness of this chapter, not to mention the incredible lateness of this chapter… but this is the best I can do. It took me a very long time to write this; these chapters are somehow really difficult for me to write. I know this didn't really fall in the humor category, but hey, divorce is serious. I can't make light of it because this isn't supposed to be a really silly fic.

Oh, by the way…someone was confused about the diablo line; I'm not the one with a daughter that knows Tom Felton, heh, that's definitely JK Rowling's kid. I'm much too young for kids! Anyway, yeah, that was disappointing, as many of you noticed. But then, so what if there's no romance between Draco and Hermione for their sixth and seventh years of Hogwarts? A _Post Hogwarts_ Affair, baby!  That's what I'm talking about ;) So yeah, thanks for the reviews, I'm trying hard to get out more chapters, but I have such a horrible writer's block that I'm trying to overcome big time. Please review and tell me what you thought; took me forever to write. 


	12. Oh, the Possibilities

A Post Hogwarts Affair 12

A/N: I'm so sorry for such a long wait! I had final exams and of course the end of the school year is disgustingly busy but I'm free now! So here you go.

The wind whistled gently and I sighed. I hated my life. It was depressing and horrible and I just wanted to start over or something. I glanced at the man beside me, who was quiet and looking at the sky. "Ron," I began slowly, unsure of what to say. What does one say at this point? Um, sorry, you know how it goes… sure, we'll keep in touch? Ridiculous. This man had been one of my best friends since I was eleven years old… I couldn't just do that.

"What?" His voice brought me out of my reverie and I turned to him, astonished at how gruff it sounded.

"Well, you don't have to snap," I protested meekly, not wanting to start an argument but at the same time wanting to know the explanation.

"Look. I'm going home. Are you coming?" He stood up abruptly and walked away from the bench. His body seemed to blend in with the darkness. I estimated it was already seven p.m.

Should I go home? Or should I go spend some time with someone else? Perhaps it wasn't a good idea; who knew what mess we'd get into? "I think we both need some time…to process this. You know, let the effects sink in and stuff," I felt like a measly coward as I said the words, like one big divorced cliché, but I said them anyway.

He nodded. "Yeah. Well I'm going home. You're welcome anytime."

I shook my head slightly. "That's okay. I'll see you in a few days, alright?"

Without a word, I heard a soft crack and the silhouette of a tall man disappeared. I sat in the park for a few moments longer, reflecting on what had just happened, how serious it was. And then I realized that it was chilly outside and I better find a place to go. I debated. Ginny? Harry? Who else was I close to?

Finally I decided on Harry just because he fully understood what was going on. If anyone could help me through this, it was Harry. Nervously I apparated to the front of his large, exquisite home in which we had spent so many interesting moments. Forgetting my inhibitions I rang the doorbell and patiently waited.

Harry opened it up and I noticed immediately how disheveled he looked. Well, not really, but… his hair was all messed up and his shirt wrinkled. He was wearing boxers along with it. Embarrassed I backed away. "Sorry… did I catch you at the wrong time?"

"Oh, no, that's okay, come on in," he said politely. Of course he'd say that. This was Harry, after all. Ridiculously polite and generous and sweet and… even handsome. Actually, quite attractive. Everything a girl wanted in a man. No wonder he had so many "opportunities".

I stepped into his foyer and sighed. "You have a girl over, don't you." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

He nodded sheepishly. "Sorry. I had no idea that you would stop by… but I'd told you I was going to go on a date with Mandy. Well we'd just come home from dinner and… were a bit… busy when you came."

"Look, I'll leave," I began, feeling silly and stupid and somehow insanely jealous of Mandy. I didn't even know why. The divorce had left me feeling raw and somehow I was protective of Harry. Harry shouldn't have Mandy; Mandy wasn't good enough for him… stop this, Hermione, I told myself. I was being so thick!

"No, don't! You've been here countless times, help yourself to whatever food you want… ask Twinky, she'll make something for you… you know where the guest bedrooms are. Just take the one you always take. Settle down. Call a friend. _Mi casa es tu_ _casa_."

I smiled as Harry attempted Spanish in an atrocious accent. Thanking him profusely, I did exactly what he said. After a pint of break-up ice cream (and yes, there really was such a thing in the wizard world, enhanced by special herbs and charms to make you feel much better) I walked happily over to my guest room and smiled at its familiarity.

Suddenly I remembered that I did have to go to work tomorrow, and there was no way that I was going to do so in my current state. After much debating (and I was still giddy with happiness) I decided to inform my wonderful boss whom I hadn't seen in a long, long time.

That brought back a whole new set of morbid memories. Lavender! Oh, Christ, Lavender! I wondered how many people the little gossip had told by now. I had to… Obliviate her. There was no other way.

Then again, what did it matter if people found out. There would already be tons of bad publicity about me, because of Ron's prominent position in wizard society and because I was best friends with the man who saved the wizard world.

Torn, I just decided to ignore the matter and go ahead and contact Draco Malfoy. I decided to use fire transportation, always useful. Within a few moments I felt the odd sensation of my head being in his fireplace. "Mr. Malfoy!" I called loudly, wondering why I'd just addressed him so formally. Oh, whatever.

I heard footsteps and soon he'd entered what I presumed was his study. It was lovely, with mahogany bookcases that reached the high enchanted ceiling and a wonderful, sturdy, cherry wood desk that looked just _so_ inviting. How could he not want to do work all day long?

"Hermione?" he asked in surprise, staring at me.

"Hello," I grinned sheepishly. "I just wanted to tell you… well, ask you really, if I could take the next few days off. I'm miserable."

"You don't look miserable," he stated suspiciously, giving me an odd look.

"Oh, sorry, break-up ice cream. Does that to you, you know?" I explained merrily.

"No, I didn't know, having never had the stuff…but I've heard. Break-up ice cream, eh? Whose the lucky man?"

"Shut up," I growled. He knew perfectly well who the "lucky" man was. "You know who."

"No, I don't. Please tell me, Hermione, or I shan't be able to give you what you ask for," he said smoothly, ever the fast talker.

Exasperated I exclaimed, "Ron! Of course Ron! If you must know, I'm getting a divorce."

He seemed stunned. For a few seconds, he didn't say anything. The air in his study made his hair flap a bit in the air conditioning, and it was completely silent except for the whirr of the wind.

"Divorce," he finally managed to get out. His voice didn't seem steady. I wondered what was wrong with him. Had Lavender already told him? I really hoped not. "How is that possible?" he said sharply. "I thought Weasley was a pureblood."

Not this again… "It's Ron. His family is anything but the normal pureblooded family," I explained awkwardly. "I guess we'll get it done the muggle way."

His features creased. "Well, did you get married the muggle way? If you didn't, then you're stuck."

I breathed in relief as I remembered that we had indeed gotten married "the muggle way", or in other words, muggle papers and the like. My mother had insisted on it and of course, Arthur Weasley was more than ready to agree, and Molly could be brought about. "Yes we did," I replied piercingly. "What's it to you anyhow?"

"Just checking out your excuse. You know, a 'few days off' isn't something I give very often. Need to make sure it's real." His voice was odd; I couldn't place the emotion behind it.

"Real?" I exclaimed in anger. "Of course it's real! How dare you make light of my situation! Gods! You're absolutely awf—"

He held his hand up to quiet me. "Look, it came out wrong. I'm pleased you're cleaning up your social life. Now go. I'm a bit busy. I'll give you three days and on Wednesday I expect you to be back at work. In fact I have plenty to discuss with you."

His cold demeanor left me aghast but I hurriedly left his fireplace and came to Harry's guest room so I could think about it.

_I'm pleased you're cleaning up your social life_… the bastard! So condescending… but it meant something, I was sure. I'm pleased… I'm pleased… why was he pleased? Why did it affect him at all, except for the fact that I wasn't going to be at work for a few days?

Damn it. My obsession, which had temporarily faded as more important things took control of my life, was back. I had to ignore it, had to talk to Lavender, had to heal from this divorce, had to figure out why I felt weirdly about Harry… and I had to do this all very soon. I didn't even know how to get started.

I sighed. First things first… what was the easiest to do off of that list? Lavender, I supposed. I dreaded speaking with her but then finally decided to go pay her a visit. Slipping out of the room and leaving a magical note for Harry (the thing would fly up to him whenever he was ready to be disturbed), I set out of the house and made my way over to Lavender's flat.

She opened the door and greeted me with a huge hug when she saw me. "Hermione, darling! Do come in!" she cried happily. The little hypocrite, I thought angrily. She only wanted more gossip, I was sure of that.

"Hello, Lavender," I said, as brightly as I could muster. The effects of break-up ice cream were definitely beginning to fade.

"Can I get you anything? A drink, perhaps? A nibble?" She bustled through her flat, straightening out already straightened pillows on the perfect couch and picking up imaginary lint from a glossy marble floor.

She was definitely showing off. Still, I admired how pretty her nice, clean flat looked. "Oh, no, that's okay," I replied sympathetically. "I do want to have a bit of a chat, though."

If possible, Lavender began to sparkle even more brightly. "Let me get some tea and biscuits. One can't have a chat without those essentials," she smiled and disappeared into the kitchen. I found myself reminiscing about how different this girl had been in Hogwarts. Couldn't lift a finger to help a soul, and here she was, the perfect little hostess, skinny and slim and beautiful and lucky and unmarried…and still a gossip, I reminded myself. In my depressed mood it was easy for me to envy anyone and everyone.

Lavender returned with a plate of cookies and tea for the two of us. I sat down on the sofa and she settled in next to me. "So, Hermione, what's on your mind? It was just recently we met!"

I nodded. "Yes, that's true. Did you enjoy Parvati's party?" I awkwardly began some small talk. What was I supposed to do? Whip out the wand, obliviate the girl, and tell her I had to go care for my sick grandmother?

"Oh, it was lovely. I had a marvelous time meeting everyone again. Everyone's become so accomplished! My gosh, Harry Potter has become absolutely stunning. And _so_ successful. We all knew he would be, but he has surpassed our expectations! Rich and handsome, not to mention absolutely a sweetheart! I'm surprised he's still a bachelor. Might have to pay him a visit," she laughed good-naturedly.

My heart flip-flopped as she mentioned all of Harry's amazing traits. "Yes, he's… quite… the, er, successful one," I finished up lamely, sure that my face was brilliantly red.

Was it simply the divorce getting to my head or was I unearthing some real feelings for my other best friend? I had an example in front of me; sometimes, marrying your best friend didn't always work.

Then again, this _was_ Harry. Harry was pretty close to perfect.

Then what about Draco? Just as well-off, if not more so, than Harry, and… dangerously exciting. Someone different in my boring life. Like a seasoning, no, more of a spice. I liked him, too. He was brilliant and daring and sexy and…

Oh, man. I fancied them both. Safe, reliable, wonderful Harry, and dangerous, deceiving, yet undeniably sexy Draco. Merlin.

"Hermione? Hermione?" I tuned into Lavender, was looking at me with a puzzled expression on her face. "You just seemed to daze off there. Are you alright?" she asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, fine. Look, Lavender, I might as well start talking about why I'm really here," I said, anxious to change the subject.

"Hmm?" she asked, perking a perfectly shaped eyebrow up in interest.

"At, um, Parvati's party, I had a little too much to drink, as I'm sure you know," I began. She didn't say anything, but I knew she was waiting with bated breath for me to continue. So I did. "I believe that I told you some things that I really shouldn't have told anyone."

She smiled demurely. "Ah, Hermione. I suppose you're referring to your infatuation with your boss," she asked inquiringly, although she knew perfectly well that that was exactly what I was talking about.

But I played it all refined anyway, just like she did. Two can play at this game, Lavender. "Yes, indeed it is… it was so silly of me, but honestly, I've been rather in the dumps lately, and he gave me a little trinket. This set off a whole lot of silly notions in my head," I explained in my politest yet sharpest manner.

"Really? A trinket? What was this trinket that set off a whole lot of silly notions in your head?" she asked.

"Oh, it was merely a gift that he gives to all employees who have worked particularly well in the last month. Just… just, uh… just a lovely little… er, necklace. Yes. A tiny little thing, probably didn't even cost him two knuts!"

"And that was what made you deliriously obsessed with him?" she asked, abandoning the act. She was too interested to keep it up.

"Yes," I replied, hoping she bought my lies and forgot about the whole thing. "I've come to my senses now, actually."

"Really? That's wonderful, because, Hermione, you're married," she pointed out. As if I didn't already know.

"Actually, dear Lavender, I'm getting a divorce. It should be final very soon, I think," I snobbishly shut her up. She looked amazed. She could spread it around, I didn't care, it would be in the papers sooner or later anyway.

"Goodness! You're breaking up with Ron? Because of Draco?! I didn't know it was that serious! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! This is huge news!" Lavender had completely abandoned any act of sophistication and maturity. The news was too much for her to handle…wait a minute. Wait a minute!

"No, of course not!" I screeched, embarrassed to even hear it. "I am not leaving Ron because of Draco! I told you that was just a temporary infatuation! A bout of lunacy on my part! Okay! We're splitting because we… feel that we are better off as friends!"

Lavender grinned. "Sure, okay. But you don't care for Draco anymore?"

"I never cared for Draco," I lied. "Not at all. I have told you, it was simply a minor infatuation because Ron and I were going through tough times. I don't care for him in the least, the cocky bastard!"

She nodded. "This is like a soap opera, Hermione. So, you don't care for Draco Malfoy. Zilch. Nil. Nada?"

"Yes, Lavender, you've got it. I don't care for him at all. I mean I'd care more for Harry than I would for Draco Malfoy!" I exclaimed.

This turned out to be a horrible and insanely stupid thing for me to have said. "Harry!" Lavender's ears perked up again. "Harry! My god! You care for him? You fancy Harry then? You broke up with Ron because you fancied Harry and Malfoy? Merlin, Merlin, Merlin!"

"Lavender!" I barked unhappily. "You're wrong, I don't care for Draco Malfoy at all. Just Harr—no, I mean, neither of them." My slip-up was once again stupid. I hadn't meant to say it, and I didn't even fancy Harry (well I don't think I did) but the words slipped out in my haste to explain to her that she was completely off.

But it cost me. "Oh really," her eyes glinted with glee. "Well, Hermione, I must be off, really. I have a lot of shopping to do, have to meet someone at Hogsmeade in, oh dear, twenty minutes! You're welcome to stay if you want, but I've got to go."

"No, that's okay," I said, hurriedly getting up. "I'll just be leaving, Lavender," I sighed hopelessly. There was nothing I could do. Nothing but sit and watch the drama unfold. Unhappily I let myself out of Lavender's flat and made my way quite dolefully back to Harry's house. He flung open the door before I could even knock.

"Where did you go?" he demanded.

"Lavender's house. I left you a note," I said, looking at the ground because I'd only just noticed that Harry was wearing a button-down shirt with all the buttons opened, so his very toned chest (and I do mean very!) was quite exposed. Lucky Mandy. Horrid Mandy. Silly me! What was wrong with me?

"Yes, but you didn't specify where you were. I was so worried you'd go and jump off a cliff or something," he said seriously. "You looked utterly depressed and I didn't even get a chance to ask you what was wrong. I sent Mandy home as soon as you came but you'd left so quickly. Jesus! Don't worry me like that!"

Merlin. The man could _not_ get any sweeter. I hated him for doing this to me. Giving up sex so he could talk to his best friend? "Harry," my voice cracked as I spoke his name. "Harry. Ron and me…"

I couldn't say it. The whole time I could say it but somehow I couldn't say it to Harry.

"Shh," he enveloped me in his arms. I could feel that chest. I was miserable but at the same time comforted.

"Ron and I…" I tried again.

"Another brawl?" he asked gently. "Did he go out drinking again?"

I shook my head into his chest. "No," my voice was muffled. "No. It's finished. It's over."

I felt him stiffen. For a moment he didn't say anything, but finally the word escaped his lips. "Divorce?"

I didn't say anything, but years of friendship provided for non-verbal communication. For a few moments we simply rocked, both overcome at this unexpected turn of events. We'd never have imagined this as children. Never.

I pulled away and sighed sadly and he lifted my chin with his hands. "Don't cry," he scolded. "Be strong, Hermione. It's for the best."

"Do you remember… remember when you warned me… on my wedding day?" I asked quietly, wondering if he was thinking the same thing right now.

"Shh, it's okay. Just forget about it. I don't want this to take the life out of you, Hermione. It will be okay. You know what? Go sleep. I'll take care of everything."

My heart pounding, I gave him a watery smile and turned for his guest suite, not without thinking about romantic possibilities with my other best friend.

There was something seriously wrong with me…and only time could tell. Harry, Draco, Ron, Lavender, Ginny… these people and more were like sand and I felt myself sifting through them, searching for something, searching for something that I didn't even know existed.

A/N: Well, there you have it. Hermione's confused and alone, except she's not really alone. In the next chapter I hope to bring in more Draco because he hasn't really been important lately. Ginny will also make an appearance sooner or later. Oh, and someone pointed out that it isn't really an affair if Hermione divorces Ron, so why's it called A Post Hogwarts Affair? Affair also refers to events and such, not just an extramarital relationship. I meant it in both ways.

Thanks for sticking with me, everyone. Please review!


	13. Back to Work

A Post Hogwarts Affair 13

On Monday morning I woke up bleary-eyed to the awful sound of my stupid alarm clock. Over the weekend I'd moved out of the house that Ron and I had once shared into an apartment of my own. Both Harry and Ron had helped me move, and although conversation was a bit strained at times between Ron and me, Harry helped it along quite easily.

Yet another reason why I found myself fancying him.

I couldn't believe it. What was I, if I was able to move so quickly from one man to the next? I was… some sort of… _mind skank_!

What a horrible, horrible thing to be.

Quickly I got into the shower and remembered with a moan that I was all set to go back to work today. Oh, joy. I was most uncomfortable even thinking about my boss; the last thing I needed to do right now was to see the man. Hopefully he was out on another 'business trip'. And that reminded me. I'd been busy as hell, but now that everything was slowing down I could think about it.

He wanted papers on Ron. Why'd he want papers on Ron? Old Hogwarts grudge? How many games Ron had messed up for his Quidditch team? Or was it anything to do with me working for him?

I didn't feel like dressing in something nice, but at just the moment when I was pulling on a drab work suit, Ginny's face popped into my fire. "Hermione!" she screamed.

I turned around, worried. "Ginny! Is anything wrong? Are you okay? You didn't get burned, did you?"

All right, it was a silly question. But even after all these years, seeing someone's face in your fire did tend to shock you slightly. Especially if they were perfectly content with it. Luckily Ginny just laughed. "Oh, Hermione… wait. What is _that_?"

She was of course talking about my work attire. "My clothes," I answered shortly.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no," Ginny, ever the fashion expert exclaimed. "Stay right there, Hermione. Don't move! I'll be right over."

My feet were glued to the floor. I couldn't have moved if Voldemort was breathing in my ear.

Before I knew it, Ginny was standing in front of me. "Hermione!" she whined. "I can't believe this. You know what, I'm so giving you an appointment at my salon. The works, totally free. You need it. I'm sorry, honey, I heard about what happened." She enveloped me in a huge hug and then pulled away, looking devious. I shuddered. "Hermione. You cannot go out looking like someone broke your heart, and trust me, it really looks like that right now. Where did you get that? I can't even call it an outfit! Today is important. You have to look really, really good."

"But why?" I asked incredulously. "Why is today special?"

"Because everyone's going to know," she clucked sympathetically, a trait inherited from her mother, I was sure. "You know that Ron's a top notch Quidditch player, and you… well, you're you! Of course we all expected you to have… I dunno, ousted Snape by making brilliant potions by now, or something… but you're still in the papers every now and then. You're Harry's best friend, and you've just divorced his other best friend? Hon, you're in every tabloid. You _can't_ look like this is affecting you. You've got to look smashing."

I smiled at Ginny's pep talk. "Look, I'm not really in the mood to beautify myself…" I began compromisingly.

"That's why I'm here," she grinned maniacally in response. "So I'll be a bit late to work, whatever, they can deal without me. And you, Hermione, need to make a fashionably late entrance."

"My boss is going to get mad at me," I protested feebly, but I knew it was no use.

"And that is another thing!" Ginny said in excitement as she led me into the bathroom. Apparently in her robes, tight-fitting as they were, she stored plenty of make-up and soon my bathroom counter was full of potions and enhanced lipsticks and blushes and eye shadows and what not. "Your boss. Draco Malfoy. If I remember correctly, you have a crush on him?"

"Ginny!"

"Okay, whatever, pretend like you don't…" Ginny teased as she expertly applied mascara and a billion other products that I couldn't recognize. Including potions.

"If you mix too many potions," I swallowed nervously, "bad effects can happen."

"Relax," Ginny reassured as she did something with my eyebrows (I didn't exactly know what). "I've done this a million times. You're going to look so sexy when I'm done."

"But I'm going to work! I don't want to look sexy!" I objected, half in horror and half appreciating what she was doing for me.

"There!" She stepped away from me as if I were her masterpiece. "You look so amazing. I did the classic natural look on you. Believe me, you don't look like you have too much make-up on; it looks fantastic. Have a peek!"

She thrust a hand-held mirror in my hand and I was shocked to see that indeed the look was very natural… and very pretty.

"But if it's so natural, how come it takes so long?" I griped.

"That's the way the broomstick breaks," she quipped. "Okay, anyway, I want you to wear this," she pulled out one of my nicest business suits (and most revealing!) out of the closet. "This deep velvet red… not everyone can pull it off. But you can. Now get dressed. I'm late, you're late, gotta go, and I promise in that outfit you'll impress your boss…"

And before I could even get angry, she'd Apparated away.

With a resigned sigh, I took a pinch of floo powder and got myself to work, hoping that Draco wouldn't notice just how late I was. I really shouldn't have thought of him on a first-name basis, I chided myself, there was well, a 99% chance that nothing was going to happen between us.

Unfortunately, luck was not with me that morning. As soon as I stepped into my comfortable little office, a very upset looking Draco Malfoy was staring at me in seething anger, I supposed. "You're late," he spat.

"Sorry. I had some things to do," I replied vaguely.

"On my expense? I've given you a wonderful job; I'd expect you to make the best of it and actually _work_. Or do you not know how, not having done so for however long you were married to that… Weasley?" he berated.

The nerve of him! It was at times like these where I was appalled at my pheromones; how dare they make me sometimes fancy this heartless wanker of a man? "Excuse me?" I scowled. "I know you wouldn't understand, but a divorce is a difficult thing to get through. Then again, you wouldn't know, because you've never been attached to anyone, have you?"

He growled. "Don't think you're getting off so easy, Granger. Just because I'm going to let you go this time for personal problems, doesn't mean you can waltz in an hour and a half late every day!" With that, he turned on his heel and exited, trying to probably look noble or some crap like that.

Noble my arse! Thinking he was a saint just because he let me off! Any normal boss wouldn't have thought anything of it, but this smelly flobberworm of a man was so high-headed he could barely say "oh, it's okay" without making it into a huge deal.

Throughout the morning, I worked diligently on a new file. A company that Malfoy wanted to buy that dealt with oil was making it difficult, and I had to draft new compromises because the damned company wouldn't accept any of Malfoy's very generous offers.

So he was nice to clients but when it came to his employees, he was a Voldemort waiting to happen.

Typical.

And why did he want a company with oil anyway? More profits? He was rich enough as it was. Greedy little pig. Just as I was thinking these thoughts (and they were all negative, I assured myself; I had to get over this silly little crush) an owl crashed into my pen, forming an ink blot on the formal reply I had been drafting to the company. Drat!

With a sigh I took the letter from the owl and sent it on its way, cursing the owner of the blasted thing. The letter turned out to be from Janice, one of my coworkers.

_Hermione-_

_Want to go out to lunch? I could sure use a little break._

_- Janice_

Mumbling to myself I wrote a hasty reply.

_Janice-_

_I'm so sorry, but I'm totally swamped in work right now, and there's just no way I can escape. Try Ellen, she seems a little less interested in whatever she's doing. But we'll go out sometime soon, okay?_

_-Hermione_

Of course everything would've gone brilliantly and I would have been able to complete my draft (which I had to start over, of course) had not another owl swooped down into my office at that very moment. This one was bigger, and much more refined, thank goodness, I do think I would have hexed something if I'd had to start over yet again, but when I read the note I suddenly felt very peculiar.

_Ms. Granger-Weasley _(crap! I had to still go and change my name!)

_Mr. Malfoy requests your presence at Rosetta's Café for a business lunch at 12:30 p.m. Please be prepared on the oil files. _

_- Anna Wallace, Secretary_

I read the note feeling distasteful. There was of course, no way that I could refuse, as had been proven last time I'd had to go out to lunch with him. I was struck with just how long ago that had been.

Half-angry and half-excited for my impending fate, I hurriedly closed up my files, seeing as it was already 12:24 (typical Malfoy, giving me only six minutes to "prepare the oil files"), threw them into my book bag, and made my way through the bustle that was Malfoy, Inc. and out into open air. Ah, I could finally breathe. I checked my watch. 12:27. Okay, I admitted to myself. I had no idea where Rosetta's Café was. No doubt it was the next "it" place, but where was it located?!

In desperation I put a call through to my good friend Ginny, who happened to keep telephones because she insisted it got her more customers (although most wizards didn't use phones). "Ginny!" I wailed.

"Hermione," she replied smoothly. "I'm kind of busy right now, can I call you back?"

"No!" I protested. "I need to know where Rosetta's Café is, please?"

Ginny squealed. Apparently now I had her full attention. "Rosetta's Café? You're going to Rosetta's?"

"Obviously, if I need to know where it is," I grinned into the phone. So this place was a lot more hip than I'd originally thought…

"Omigosh! Hermione, that's fantastic! With who and why?"

"Ginny!" I moaned. "I'm supposed to be there in a minute. With Draco and for a business lunch. Tell you what happens later and now where the hell is the place?"

"Ok, I'm so glad I dressed you up this morning. What you're wearing is perfect. Rosetta's is totally the in thing with business people, and it's so yum. I'm so jealous! Located at corner of West Alley and Owlbery Village, okay?"

I barely mumbled a thanks before I Apparated in that direction, truly hoping I'd end up somewhere near that restaurant. Blast Draco Malfoy for making this so difficult for me!

Luckily I ended up right in front of the restaurant, and as Ginny had claimed, it certainly was hopping. I entered nervously and the maître d' immediately came up to me. "You must be Ms. Granger-Weasley, correct?"

"Erm, yes," I replied. "Is Mr. Malfoy already here?"

"Oh yes, but don't worry, he just got here a moment ago." Breathing a sigh of relief, I followed him through the throngs of people to a more secluded table. I sat down next to my boss—my soon to be ex-crush, I hoped.

But right now my heart was hammering, totally going against what my brain was screaming at me. "Hello," I grimaced. "I can't believe this. You know how much work I need to do on this file; how can you pull me out to a lunch?"

"To discuss it," came his clipped reply. "Obviously."

"Well, I'm not _done_ with it," I stressed. The nerve of him!

"I told you to be prepared!" he shot back.

"Like three minutes before I was supposed to meet you here! How am I supposed to do anything about that?"

"Wine?" a waitress interrupted our argument. "Today's special is a lovely Sauvignon—from Bordeaux."

"Yes, two glasses," Draco (no! Malfoy!) scowled and turned to her, but as soon as he looked at her his scowl melted into a sort of an indifferent, neutral expression.

He was _so_ checking her out.

Sodding git! The bloody wanker, how dare he do that on a business meeting? I was _not_ jealous, I was merely upset that he was…doing personal things on business time! Ugh!

The waitress gave him a flirty smile as she poured our wine and giggled when she departed. "Are you okay, Hermione?" Draco smirked as he looked at my face. I must have been sporting a scowl. Angrily, I gave him a tight smile.

"Wonderful," I responded sarcastically. "So kind of you to have me come with files that I only received day before yesterday."

"Ah, yes, the oil. So what do you think of me buying the company?" he asked conversationally.

I remembered what he said to me the last time we were out. _You're amazing to talk to… amazing to look at… amazing to be with?_ What the hell? Was this even the same Draco? That had been two months ago, and in those two months, those were the most romantic words he had ever said to me. After he'd said them, he'd clammed up like an idiot and hadn't spoken anything else that could classify as romantic since. I could not believe it. What was _wrong_ with him?

"I don't know," I shrugged. "It's not my decision; I'm not about to make it for you."

"Who says that you're making the decision?" His tone suddenly narrowed.

"Well…you suggested," I helpfully reminded, at a loss for argument.

"Just because I asked you what you thought, seeing as you are the head of the muggle department of my company, doesn't mean that you're doing _my_ job." His voice had turned cold and dangerous, much as I remembered it from seventh year at Hogwarts.

"Okay, okay, calm down," I tried to pacify him, but it was to no avail.

"You know," he hissed, "you're impossible to talk to. Everything I say to you, you take it the wrong way!"

Even the... you're amazing to be with? Amazing to look at? Amazing to…even all of that? Did I take it the wrong way? Was I making the proverbial castles in the air? Was I imagining everything?

"Yeah…" I finally spoke something, because he was looking at me so intensely it was impossible to keep shut (something I just don't do; we females by nature, we gotta talk, and I am one of the most talkative of them all). "Maybe I do."

I wanted to get up and leave, but was afraid to do so. What if he fired me? Normally I would have just left him there, but I needed the job more than ever, especially as I had begun to live on my own. We sat in terse silence until our food arrived, food I didn't even remember ordering, and began to eat in complete silence.

Finally I couldn't take it anymore. "So, the… oil," I started lamely.

He didn't say anything for a moment, and once again I was tempted to just leave him there. But just at that second, he spoke. "The oil…so has the company agreed to our terms yet?"

"No," I sighed desperately. "I've composed four drafts and they've refuted every single one. I honestly don't think this is a good business venture; if you want to invest in oil, I suggest a different company…actually," I brightened, "I have a friend in Texas whose father is an oil mogul. A Muggle, of course, but I'm sure I can secure a business deal easily once I point out your credentials."

He gave me a slow smile. "See, this is the kind of information I was asking you for earlier. That's… really good, um, go ahead and secure that deal then. I give you full permission. You may want to have a chat with Milton Taylor first, because he knows a lot about oil; he's the man that suggested I invest in it, but…that should come out, um, great."

Was it just me or had he seemed nervous accepting my policy? Ha! Take that! "Yeah… it should really work."

"Listen, I hope you're doing okay," he said abruptly and out of the blue. "I mean, I'm not one for relationship therapy… I mean, look at me, I've never had a serious relationship…but, I'm sure it's tough. If you want, I can recommend a friend's psychologist…if you want to, um, talk it out or do girly stuff like that."

I had to stifle a snort. Trust Draco to say "I can recommend a psychologist to talk to" instead of a "Well you can talk to me if you want". And for a friend? I didn't believe it. Must be the proverbial "friend"! "No, that's okay," I found myself saying back to him with a shy smile, "I think I'll survive. I mean, I have my friend Ginny, and… stuff."

"Is she seeing Potter?" he remarked casually, with an air of indifference, but I knew he cared. Cocky bastard never could keep his nose out of our business.

"No, she and Harry broke it off a while back. I never found out why though," I realized as I said it out loud. I never had. I'd been so wrapped up in my own little ordeals that I hadn't even helped Ginny through hers, while she'd been there for me the whole time. I'd really have to talk to her about it soon.

"And you?" he continued, giving a flirty wink to that same damned waitress as she sashayed by our table.

"And me?" I squeaked, a bit angry and a bit confused. "I just got out of a five year relationship, Draco, you can't expect me to be looking at anyone else!"

What a lie. Not one 'anyone else', but two.

"Really?" he smirked, his expression telling me that he didn't quite believe me, "I had a feeling that that was one of the reasons why you broke it off. You aren't fancying anyone else?"

"Absolutely not," I firmly stated. Any minute now, Merlin was going to smite me down for lying through my bloody teeth…

The check arrived before he could reply. He paid and we stood. "Absolutely not, eh?" he repeated as we left the restaurant. "Well, Hermione Granger—the Weasley's gone now, right?—when you're ready to tell me who, I'll be waiting."

And he Apparated away.

What was the deal with people Apparating before I could bloody answer them?! And what had he meant by that anyway?

After a few moments of pondering, I was truly angry at the git. How dare he! What was he implying? And then, it suddenly hit me, and everything from the last few days came back in a jumbled mess—from a sexy, shirtless Harry to a scheming certain someone…

There was just one thing that numbly echoed in my mind. Lavender had spread the word.

A/N: I apologize for the wait; I was visiting the Netherlands and there was just no way I could update. But now I'm back and I'm writing. Hope this chapter was up to your standards. Please review; I appreciate your feedback so much because it's so valuable!


	14. Three Years

A Post Hogwarts Affair 14

My feelings were bordering on savage. I didn't know quite what to think. After my business lunch with Draco Malfoy had come to an end, I'd Apparated back to work and stared forlornly at oil files. Suddenly they had really begun to bore me. I could care less, and for the first time in my life I found myself procrastinating (shocking, I know).

Now normally I would have called my muggle friend Teresa immediately, and prodded her in the direction of oil, but right now I felt like there was nothing in this world that I wanted except a steaming hot bath. With soft pink rose petals (an indulgence I would not admit under wandpoint).

Maybe I could leave early. There was a good chance that Draco wouldn't notice, and if I bribed Janice or Ellen or any of the other workers here, perhaps they could cover for me if indeed he came to check…er, perhaps, a family emergency would suffice?

Yeah, right. More of a social emergency. ("Lavender! What the hell are you doing interrupting MY social life?! You whore!") Okay, maybe not, but I wish.

Anyhow. Emergency is an emergency and that's the way it was going to be. I made my way over to Janice's little cubicle, feeling immensely sorry for her as one of the many, many employees who lived their boring lives in a teeny, almost invisible workspace. How awful. "Janice," I called as I looked in on her, typing furiously on her wizcom (an adaptation of muggle computers mixed with a bit of magic. Highly useful invention).

"Hermione," she looked up to meet my eyes and I was surprised to see she didn't look at all glad to see me.

"What's wrong?" I asked cautiously. Had I said something subliminal in the note I'd sent her, rejecting her lunch offer? Surely not!

"Well," she sighed, sounding a bit miffed, "You could have just told me you were out on a date instead of making up an excuse about too much work."

"What are you on about?" I demanded, and then the ramifications hit me. "Oh! Janice, you were there?"

"Well, yes. I took your advice and asked Ellen to go with me, and the two of us had a marvelous time at Rosetta's—fantastic place, isn't it—only, when we were leaving, I definitely saw you with someone. Couldn't see the face, but from the voice, I knew it was a male. Merlin. I can't believe you're already dating; didn't you just get a divorce?"

"Janice," I took deep breaths to calm my temper, but to no avail, because the next thing out of my mouth was, "How can you possibly think I am out on a date when in fact I was having a business lunch with our oh-so-kind boss Man Whore, oops, I mean, Draco Malfoy?! AND IT WAS NOT A DATE!"

Janice looked taken-aback, almost as if the air from my yell had ruffled her hair or something (oh dear, what if it had? How embarrassing!). "Okay, okay," she held a hand up as if to pacify me, "I'm sorry. But, wow, that was some vehement, violent way of denying it! You sure you don't have a slight crush on our boss or something?"

My nostrils flared, I'm sure of it. "Of course I'm sure," I snapped. "As if I would fancy that two-faced toad. Oh, and by the way, please inform said toad that I have left early because of an emergency. Good bye."

And this time it was my turn to Apparate away before she could answer. Finally!

I went straight to Lavender's flat and nearly banged down the door. Soon I was greeted by a Lavender with a mud mask on her face dressed in a tatty blue bath robe. "Hermione?" she asked in surprise. "It's two in the afternoon."

"I know," I asserted, "I left work a bit early, and I wanted to pay you a visit."

I searched for guilt on her face. None. Then again, it was difficult to tell because her features were dried into place by that mud mask. "Okay," she smiled, "come on in. I do apologize for the way I look and the condition of my flat. If you'd just told me five minutes before you came," she smiled wistfully.

"Sorry," I apologized genuinely. Lavender may have been a gossip, but she was still a very nice person and a good acquaintance of mine. There was no need to be rude. "Anyhow, I've just got a bit of a matter to discuss with you."

"Of course. You won't mind that we don't sit on the couch and sip tea? I've got to take this bloody mask off," she called as she walked towards the bathroom. "Come in, anyway."

I followed her in and watched, half-interested half-exasperated as she rinsed off the mask. "So, I'm just wondering if you told anyone about what we discussed last time I was here?" I began.

She grinned. "Of course not Hermione," she replied, sounding cheeky (oh God her tone sounded cheeky! She was up to something!). "Why would I do such a thing?"

"Oh, I don't know, Lavender," I continued in the nonchalant manner that she had started up, "Perhaps because you have a bit of a tendency to tell such things?"

"All right. If you must know, I didn't tell anyone…except for the one person who came to my door demanding it!"

"Are you joking?" I gasped, shocked. "Who was this?"

"Parvati's fiancé Blaise! I couldn't believe it."

"I can't either," I said in surprise, completely thrown off by this. "I couldn't imagine why he would be in the least bit interested."

"Neither could I," Lavender agreed, "so I found no harm in telling him. I mean, what could he do with the information? Tell it to Parvati?"

Oh, no. A queasy feeling settled in my stomach. Lavender must have seen my expression because she smiled knowingly. "Oh, no," she smiled, "Parvati and I have grown up. Unless someone comes knocking on our doors we'll keep shut. Don't worry; anyhow, Parvati is much too preoccupied with her wedding to worry about your affairs."

"Speaking of that," I turned conversationally, "when is it?"

"She's sending out invitations at this very moment," Lavender smirked. "It's going to be a month from now."

"Small or big?"

"Big! You know Parvati, if her party a while ago was anything to judge by. Tons of Hogwarts graduates will be there, and tons of people from her job—you know she's the editor of _Witch's Couture_—and then of course all of Blaise's friends."

"You know," I suddenly realized, "I didn't see Blaise at that party."

"Yeah," Lavender nodded, "he was out of town that night. He works a lot, poor chap, but mints money like anything. Combined with Parvati's excellent job, they truly have so much money at their disposal."

I felt guilty of accusing Lavender, but honestly, Malfoy's behavior had conveyed a sense of condescending arrogance, almost like he knew completely what was going on in my brain. Or at least as much as Lavender knew. But Lavender had only told Blaise…

Oh Merlin.

"Hey, Lavender," I changed the subject quickly as a new thought arose in my mind, "Is Draco Malfoy very good friends with Blaise?"

Lavender nodded. "They go way back. All the way to Hogwarts, although they weren't all that close then."

My mouth went dry. "Okay," I replied as normally as possible. "Well I have to go. Sorry for the intrusion."

"Oh, no problem," Lavender waved me off. "Go right out then. And start thinking about your outfit for Parvati's wedding! And please don't come stag; it will look so tacky."

"Don't worry, I won't," I called as I left her flat, although that gave me a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Who was I going to go with?

But right now I had more important fish to fry.

I Apparated to my tiny flat which wasn't all that far from Harry's house either. At first I had been tempted to just pay Draco a visit in his little office and beat the information out of him, but it seemed kind of tawdry, so I decided to just wait a bit. I'd do this right when he wasn't expecting it; right when he thought he'd gotten away…no. He was going to pay.

By this time I was positive that Draco had convinced Blaise to ask Lavender and tell him. It wouldn't look suspicious because Blaise could care less about me, whereas Draco just wanted more ammunition to annoy me with. Evil, evil git.

After a few hours of grueling paperwork (I had finally buckled down and started my requests to Teresa; there was just no way I could procrastinate too long without suffering heart flutters), I decided that I really ought to comfort Ginny or something of the sort. Feeling guilty I called her up, wondering if she was still at the salon. It was five in the evening, usually the time that she left work, but I thought I might as well give it a go anyway.

"Hello?" came her voice.

"Ginny, it's me, Hermione," I chatted away as I made my evening tea.

"Oh, hey! How was Rosetta's? Did you have a fantastic time? How are things going with your stud muffin boss?"

"Ginny!" I gasped. "It wasn't that great, honestly. He kept flirting with a waitress."

"Well, was she hot?"

"Umm, she was pretty…"

"Well," came her compromising reply, "At least he has standards!" And we both burst out laughing.

"Ginny," I finally said firmly, knowing that now was the time to bring in the reason I'd really called, "So, um, how are things on the romance front?"

Ginny didn't say anything for a moment. "Okay, you know what, I'm coming over," she finally spoke. "Right now. Make tea. And those really good biscuits that you get from that muggle store. Be there in five."

I had to smile as I heard the click of the line. Ginny's way of doing things was hilarious; it was a good thing she was such a good friend. Quickly I pulled out the biscuits that she liked and put a platter of them on the table along with hot tea. Just as I was done setting up I heard my doorbell ring. I flung it open and there stood Gin. "Got biscuits?" she grinned.

"Yes, they're on the table, come on in." She followed me in and plopped down on one of the chairs.

"Sooo…the romance front, huh?" she started on a biscuit.

"Yes…I don't know what's wrong with me; I guess I'm just so caught up in my own life I haven't been asking about yours."

"Merlin," Ginny sighed, "To tell you the truth I haven't been laid in three bloody weeks. I'm about to bite my arm off."

Now was probably not a good time to tell her that I'd been holding off for three years. In fact I kept mum about it; although I was beginning to feel the pains of a suppressed libido. "Poor Ginny," I sympathized, "What about any of the cute lads you meet in bars and stuff?"

Ginny sighed. "I know, I know…maybe I'll take one home tonight. Seriously."

"You shouldn't just have sex to get over someone," I taught primly.

Ginny laughed. "Oh, Hermione. It's just sex. With a simple contraceptive charm nothing goes wrong and you feel a lot better. And please. I am so over Harry."

"Why'd you guys break up anyway?" I asked, as tactfully as possible.

Ginny didn't seem to mind sharing, however. "Differences…we fought a lot…it just didn't seem to be going anywhere. It wasn't going to work. But at least I got to try, right? God if only the chance had come when I was still in Hogwarts."

"Aw, it'll be okay. Go get laid. You'll feel better," I smiled.

"What is this? _Hermione_ telling me to get laid!" Ginny smirked. "I think I'm going to go out tonight. Want to come? Maybe you can find someone to rebound with, too."

I shook my head. I already had set my sights on two prospects, neither of which was remotely likely. "No, it's okay," I reassured. "I'll just lay in tonight. Or you know, I'll go pay Harry a visit."

"Yeah, go," Ginny urged. "He broke it off with Mandy, anyway."

"Ginny," I chided, "I didn't mean it like tha—wait. He broke up with Mandy?"

She nodded. "She was too clingy for his tastes. Hah. Bitch."

And here is another example of women. Although Ginny was Harry's ex she still found fault with anyone that Harry dated. I suppressed a smile and nodded. "Okay, well, I'll get going, too."

After I changed quickly into something more comfortable (and Ginny had splashed more natural makeup on my face; she wouldn't let me leave without it) I apparated to Harry's place while Ginny went to a girlfriend's before heading out to the latest hot spot.

Harry opened the door and grinned broadly when he saw me. "Hermione! Doing nine-to-five again?"

I nodded. "Yep. Back to the old grind. How's Ron doing?"

"Just fine. He had another meeting with WAA today, which went really well, he said. I think he's going out with some sober guys tonight."

"Sounds good for him," I replied easily.

"Yeah. Can I pour you a scotch?"

He knew I loved that drink, but I really didn't think that alcohol was going to solve anything. Already my heart was thrumming just from being in such close proximity to such a great looking, generous unattached guy who also happened to be my best friend. Calm down, I instructed myself as a weird sensation rose in my stomach.

"No, thanks," I denied, although a scotch certainly sounded very good, "Don't want to end up like Ron."

Harry laughed. "One drink isn't going to make you like Ron. But if you don't want to…"

"No, I do!" I grabbed the drink from him. It wasn't much, not even enough to get me drunk or anything, just enough to calm me down and maybe let go of a few inhibitions.

Harry poured one for himself and sat down next to me. "So, how's life?"

"Okay," I acknowledged. "Except for my prat boss."

I was met by a sympathetic look. Encouraged I went on, "He's just being a complete and total arse. Seriously. One minute he's all sympathetic and the next he's just intolerably rude. And he asked me to a business lunch this afternoon and he spent the whole time checking out our waitress."

"Typical guy," Harry mused. "Hey, I thought you fancied that git a bit."

I sighed "Yeah, a bit, but not that much anymore. Well, a little, but he's so unpredictable and…oh, that prick!"

"Yes, that prick," Harry imitated me perfectly.

I had to laugh. And then suddenly something came over me that I couldn't describe. That sensation in my stomach deepened. "Hey, Harry," I moved closer to him, resting my hand on his shoulder—not sexual, mind you. Although somehow I had a pretty good idea that that's exactly what my intentions were heading.

"Yeah?" his voice had gotten deeper.

"I hear you broke it off with Mandy." I didn't know what came over me but suddenly my hands were in his hair.

Awkward.

He seemed stunned. "Hermione—"

But I cut him off with a hard almost bruising sort of kiss. He wasn't responding, but I turned said kiss a lot gentler and soon he was kissing me back. I was shocked. I had never been an aggressive lover in my life; I always let the guy take control… so what was I doing?

We pulled away only when we remembered that we would die if we didn't get air. "What was that for?" His voice was husky. It turned me on possibly more than I had ever been turned on throughout my entire relationship with Ron.

Somehow at that moment Draco popped into my head.

I ignored it.

"Because, Harry," I began slowly, and then nipped at his neck, "I want you."

"What?" he sounded scared, almost. I was delighted and in retaliation I moved my hands across his toned chest.

For the first time in months, I had power. Power to do this to a guy. A good-looking, normally very confident man, Harry seemed knocked off his feet. I pulled him by the hand and led him through the corridors of his house and into his bedroom.

"Let's finish what we started, shall we?"

He seemed to forget his reluctance as we kissed; his passion soon matched my passion. Only when my hands tugged at his belt did he pause for a moment, and then he resumed kissing my neck.

Even in the throes of passion I couldn't forget my privacy. I scuttled to the door and shut it with a bang, pulling off my shirt in the process.

Merlin, I needed this. I moved closer to him and as I felt his hands all over my body, touching places I didn't even know were sensitive, and saw his boxer-clad body, all rational thought escaped my mind except for one thing: I was definitely about to get that release.

A/N: I hate to stop it there, all you smut-lovers, but I don't want to make this an R-rated piece…it's going to stay PG-13. To the question I know is coming: she's sleeping with Harry? Hehehehe…what does it sound like? Poor girl needed to get it out of her system. Don't worry though, all Draco/Hermione shippers, this isn't over yet. You'll see. Anyway, be proud, I updated so fast for my usual standards. Just a little over a week! Don't expect this too often, but consider it a make-up gift for taking so long with the last update.

Don't forget to review! Please tell me what you thought. It's a huge motivation when people review; makes me update a whole lot faster.


	15. Business as usual

A Post Hogwarts Affair Chapter 15

Was it just me or was it getting hot in here? Although we were still half-dressed, things were getting hot and heavy. I was just preparing to strip completely when Harry, who'd previously been kissing me, pulled away abruptly.

"Hermione."

"Yeah?" my voice was hoarse.

"Look…" he trailed off. I tensed. I hadn't forgotten everything in three years, had I? Or maybe it was because Harry sensed the truth. A truth that I wasn't even willing to admit to myself.

Okay, fine, the truth being that I wasn't feeling it. I was just repressed was all; I thought I had a desire for Harry, but seriously, and rather scarily, Draco Malfoy's pale complexion kept flashing in front of my eyes.

"I'm sorry but every time I kiss you I… see Ginny."

This I wasn't prepared for. "Ginny?" I echoed. And then it hit me like a sack of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Ginny. Merlin, I was so ridiculously stupid it wasn't even funny. I shouldn't have touched Harry; it was painfully obvious that Ginny wasn't over him…and here, it seemed like Harry wasn't over her either.

When he didn't say anything I knew it was my turn to speak. "And I…I keep thinking about…Draco."

"We need to stop." Harry sounded miserable. "We're both just using each other…and you know this is going to just murder our friendship."

"I'm sorry." I had never felt so ashamed in my life. Sure, I'd groped Harry for all of five minutes—but it was going to lead to a very long time of regret. Nervously I slipped my clothes back on. "I'm sorry," I repeated. "I wish I could just Obliviate you. And me."

"No need," Harry half-smiled. "I'm embarrassed that I let you go on like this. Hermione, you weren't thinking. You've just been through emotional turmoil. You just divorced…god I feel like an idiot. Hermione please forgive me."

His apology was heartfelt. I felt like a vixen, like Voldemort's mistress (what a disgusting mental picture). "I'm just going to go," I sighed softly. "I'll see you later."

And as I turned to go I remembered one more thing. "And Harry?"

"Mmm?"

"Call Ginny. Now."

-----

It had been two weeks since that incident with Harry. I was nauseatingly embarrassed, so much so that I hadn't talked to him since then. He hadn't called either. On the other hand, Ron certainly had called and we'd even gone out for drinks.

It had been awkward, yes, especially when the bill came and we argued over who would pay. It had never been an issue in the past—after all we'd been married. And now…now our status had been reduced to something else entirely. I couldn't even place it. It was strange and almost uninviting. I suddenly didn't want be near people anymore.

Was I turning into a misanthrope?

Merlin help me.

And just then, when I'd thought I'd hit rock bottom (after two days of seeing absolutely no one straight. My weekend certainly classified as the Worst Weekend Ever), my stupid boss flooed in and told me that he expected me to work overtime the next week.

"Why?" I whined at the familiar face. "I don't _want_ to."

"Nobody wants to work, Hermione," he said crisply, giving me a stern look. "But we all have to in order to make a living. Unless you want to die in this desolate place all alone as an old spinster, I'd suggest you get your pretty little face in tomorrow."

He looked irate, and right now he was making me terribly irritated. "I won't tolerate that language," I scowled deeply. "If you expect me to come in I'd expect you to be cordial about it!"

Draco was evidently offended. "You are the most difficult employee I have come across," he declared. "Tomorrow. Seven a.m. Be there or…not."

I had to giggle. "Or be square?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Umm yeah. I'll just go now."

"Laters, Malfoy," I said loudly, just to aggravate him further. I could barely believe myself. It had been ages since I'd resorted to the age-old game of "Let's See Who Can Get the Most Annoyed". But hadn't Draco and I just played it?

That night was awful. I'd curled up with a good book, but it was becoming harder and harder for me to read it. This was another first. I always enjoyed reading, no matter what was going on. But today I couldn't even concentrate on it.

I wanted more break-up ice cream. I wondered if they used spells and potions similar to anti-depressants in them.

Hermione, I told myself firmly, get a grip on yourself. I was being ludicrous. Had I, Hermione Granger, seriously taken to moping around the house...because of a man? That did it. I dissolved into a fresh set of tears.

Ten minutes later I was all cried out and there were no more tissue boxes in the house. Stumbling to my bathroom, I shirked away from my own reflection and finally just stepped into the shower. Soon I came out feeling somewhat refreshed. Imagine my surprise when I stepped out and Parvati and Blaise were waiting in my living room.

"Did we catch you at a bad time?" Parvati asked sympathetically.

No, of course not. I'd just had a miserable two weeks, my living room was strewn with used tissue, my eyes were probably still red, my hair was dripping wet and in general my life was a mess. Of course they hadn't caught me at a bad time.

They'd caught me in a bad life.

"Not at all," I smiled cheerfully. "Can I get you anything? Something to drink? A snack?"

"Oh, no, we're great," Blaise said without cracking a smile or even a benign expression. His face it seemed was just frozen into blankness.

"Look Blaise and I really wanted to ask you something," Parvati grinned. "We know it's silly…but I'm positively anal about this wedding…I just wanted to know who you'll be bringing, and if you could please wear a soft pink dress, so you can match the others?"

"Er," I squirmed, because I hadn't given a second thought to who I'd be bringing, "I'll wear soft pink," I promised, "but I haven't arranged a date yet."

"Could you do it by Wednesday?" Parvati looked strained. "I need a complete guest list and I've got to make seating arrangements."

"Of course," I promised, not knowing what else to say. I just wanted them to leave already.

"Fantastic," Blaise got up quickly, and extended Parvati a hand, which she gladly took.

"See you at the wedding!" Parvati squealed as she hugged me good bye. "Have fun!"

"Bye, you two," I called after them. And as an afterthought, "Behave yourselves! Just a few weeks left!"

I could still hear their laughter as I went to bed. It played over and over in my head. I couldn't believe it. There was just no way I could be so lonely so fast, right? I couldn't crave coupledom this much… I'd just gotten out of a devastating relationship!

And I had a crush on my boss. Draco Malfoy.

And I nearly slept with my best friend. Harry Potter.

Someone Avada me, I wished. I'd really screwed myself over in the three weeks that I'd been divorced. It was just awful. I had seriously fucked my life up.

That night I forced myself to read some discovering-yourself books. Although they'd looked a bit silly I found out that they certainly helped.

Love yourself! Love everything about you!

I would, I promised myself. I would. I did. I must.

The next morning was clear and cool as I donned on my work clothes. I took care with my appearance again, because I just couldn't have myself looking like the way I had been for the last two weeks (like something the cat dragged in). My smashing appearance that Ginny had helped me with was long forgotten. Today I would revive it.

Making sure I looked acceptable I apparated to work, and was immediately greeted by a truckload of papers. "Oh, fantastic," I mumbled to myself. "I hate oil."

That morning I called my friend Teresa, begged her for her father's oil, set up a meeting between Draco and her father, overtaxed my brain on budget questions, and put my knowledge of magical theory to use.

I was completely immersing myself in work. It was the only way to get myself out of this. Plus it definitely made me forget all of my problems in the social arena and such.

The week continued in the same fashion. I worked even more than Draco had asked me to, and that was quite a lot. On Wednesday, Parvati's accusing face popped up in my office fireplace, and I nearly screamed. "What are you doing here?" I demanded.

"You said you'd have a date for me," she sighed. "Hermione. Where's the date?"

"Non-existent," I muttered. "Look if it's that big a deal to you that I have a date, I won't go. All right? I won't muck up your perfect wedding."

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no!" Parvati assured quickly. "I'm so sorry. I just assumed that you were going to bring a date… and I didn't want any surprises."

"Give me a few more days," I begged. "I'll line up a date. Heck, I'll let you set me up with one."

The instant the words were out of my mouth, I knew it was a mistake. Especially if the gleam in her eye was anything to go by. "Great. I'm going to look at whoever else doesn't have a date on my guest list, and you can go with him. Ooh, Hermione, that's so fun! Well I'll let you get back to your work. You seem awfully busy!"

"Um, yeah," I mumbled as she left. What had I done? Sometimes I said entirely too much. _Entirely_ too much.

With a small sigh of unhappy acceptance, I turned back to the oil files. Teresa's father Mr. Rivers was flying to London next week with his wife (they were going to turn the trip into a business-slash-pleasure trip). He must've really liked the look of Draco's company if he was flying all the way from Texas, I thought to myself. And then I remembered I hadn't told Draco about this meeting.

Bad idea.

Rushing into his office, I arrived breathless and with flyaways framing my face. Just my luck; he wasn't even there. I went back out to see his secretary. "Is Mr. Malfoy here?"

"Oh, no," she shook her head, "he went out to lunch. He'll be back soon. Can I take a message?"

"Yes, please tell him that he's got a business dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Rivers. Mr. Rivers is an oil mogul and is interested in merging with this company. The dinner's two nights from now at the Malfoy Manor. If he's got any thing he wants to change he must contact me immediately."

The secretary looked down at her little magical organizer; it reminded me of a holographic notebook. The dates that he was busy on whizzed around in the air. "Well, you're lucky, Hermione," she smiled, "because he's free Friday night. Let me tell you, that's _very_ unusual, you know."

I shrugged. "Whatever," I turned to go, and came face to face with the man in question.

"Hermione?" he asked in surprise.

"Friday night you're having dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Rivers from Texas," I told him with a small smirk, "in your house. Enjoy yourself. I hope you put up an anti-magical charm everywhere so they don't notice anything unusual."

He panicked. I grinned.

"What?" he looked pained. And then, being the smarmy little prat that he was, he recovered rather quickly. "Okay, you know what, you're coming with me. It will look silly of me to entertain them all by myself, and secondly, you know more about these people. It will only make sense if you're there as well; you've met them, haven't you?"

"Yes but I haven't seen them in years," I protested weakly. I really didn't want to go out at all… but he was making sense.

"And we're not having it at Malfoy Manor," he continued, looking determined. "My father would turn in his grave if he heard of Muggles being entertained in Malfoy Manor. We'll go out to some nice muggle restaurant. Arrange one," he told the secretary. "Friday night. Seven o'clock reservations. What time are they arriving?"

"Flight's at five. Send a limo to pick them up," I told him shortly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go."

"Where?" his snarky little smile was back now that the original panic was over. "come on in my office. We need to talk about some things."

Resignedly I followed him in.

"So I've noticed you've been here twenty hours out of a twenty-four hour day," he motioned for me to sit down. "Unusual."

"You did ask me to work overtime," I answered him with a snap.

"Not that much," he grinned. "But you're Hermione Granger, ever the workaholic, huh?"

"You don't know _shit_ about what's happening to me," I growled, "so I suggest you refrain from making any comments."

"Touchy," he tapped his nose. "All right, I won't. I was going to discuss your salary."

I perked up, just a bit, mind you. "Well?"

"I've doubled it for this week."

I froze. Was he kidding? Doubled it? That was…insane! I wasn't complaining, but…wow! Whatever for?! "Er…thank you," I mumbled, a blush spreading across my cheeks, even though I didn't know why.

"No problem." Draco smiled genuinely, and I noticed once again how handsome it was. "It was the least I could do. You look like you're having a tough time…and you _are_ putting in the hours… you deserve it."

I was shocked beyond belief. These were possibly the most sincere words he'd ever said to me in my life. Forget the silly things he'd said the first time we'd lunched out…he'd been saying that for some reason or the other…I didn't really know what…but he meant these. I knew it. In surprise I shrugged. "Well, thanks," I said confidently. "Anyway, I have to go back to work."

"I was going to suggest you take a vacation," he told me seriously, "after this week. Things have been hectic. I'm taking next week off as well."

"Really? Where are you going?"

"Switzerland. I have a summer home there."

"That sounds really lovely," I replied, "you have fun, then. Be back in time for Parvati and Blaise's wedding, right?"

"Of course. Like I'd be allowed to miss that. Blaise and I are very close."

This reminded me of the information he'd gleaned from Blaise and all the mushy feelings I'd currently been having disappeared. "I have to go," I informed him coldly and stepped out of his office.

I didn't look at him until I was sure I was safely out of his vision. He didn't even look bewildered at my sudden departure. He seemed perfectly at ease; in fact, he'd turned back to his work. The _nerve_ of him.

That was it. I was tired, and sick of Draco I'm-such-a-prick-bet-you-can't-figure-out-what-I'm-doing Malfoy. He wouldn't stop playing games, and frankly, I was too old for games. I'd been through too much for games. I was looking for serious, and he was looking for dilly-dallying. That's it, Hermione, I told myself bravely, you will pull this crush out of your system if it's the last thing you do!

And you know, I did have a habit for being persistent. And succeeding.

I'd _do_ it!

A/N: Crap place to stop I know. I would have made this short chapter longer it's just that I've got to go back to school soon and I have so much stuff to do! And don't worry, all, this is still a Draco/Hermione fic, and will continue to be one. They will eventually ha--…no, I'll shut up. You'll just have to keep reading.

I'm hoping to wrap this up sooner or later. Really; I'm tired of it—it's amazing that I've stuck with it for so long because generally I have a short attention span when it comes to my stories. But don't worry I will definitely finish the story!

Next chapter you can expect the business dinner. Chapter after that should hopefully deal with Blaise and Parvati's wedding. Anyway ciao for now. I'm going to try and update soon. Please review!! It was my birthday this past week…come on, it'll make a great gift.


	16. Before the Rivers

A Post Hogwarts Affair Chapter 16

I had one blessed week to get over my little crush. I wouldn't be seeing him as he was away on vacation. I told myself he was probably screwing a lot of girls over. He was a cheater, I knew it, and although I hated cheaters with all my might, he did have a right to be.

Because he was so attractive.

Okay, Hermione, I reprimanded myself, you did not just think that. That was certainly not the direction I had wanted to go. This week was supposed to be therapeutic. This week was supposed to be get-over-Draco week.

But it wasn't working!

No matter what! I had tried every single tactic; I really, truly did. I thought of him as a horrible man who would destroy everything I ever wanted. Didn't work. Tried to make him out as a mini-Voldemort. Didn't work. I thought of him as the vilest creature on the planet, reminding myself of all the misdeeds he had done against Harry, Ron, and me. Didn't work.

The week hadn't gone well. It was already Thursday. Draco came back on Saturday morning, and Saturday night was that lovely business dinner which I really didn't want to think about. At all. Who knew what could happen? And that stupid thing with Harry was bothering me, too. Things had been awkward. Really quite awkward. Why did people have to create awkwardness? Why couldn't we just let it go? A part of me wanted to call Harry and resolve the mess, yet another part protested, claiming I'd make it even more awkward. And that brought me to my conclusion: I was a hypocrite.

My life wasn't going well. I couldn't help it. I really liked Draco Malfoy, disgusting as he was. I couldn't make myself not like him, and that wasn't a good feeling—I can make myself do anything, or so I thought.

The next two days at work were fraught with worry. I kept worrying that someone would know my awful secret, now that I had the gall to actually admit it to myself. This wasn't an ordinary crush. It was one of those crap crushes, the kind you hate but they stay anyway for the longest, most horrible time. I knew a girl whose crap crush had lasted two years. Oh Merlin, if my crush on Draco Malfoy lasted that long, I was _done for_. Done for, I tell you. Completely shot!

But the worst news was yet to come. Saturday morning, I woke with a good feeling. Something good was going to happen today; I knew it. I could feel it. The weather was perfect; a cool, crisp sunny day, and I was sure the business meeting would go splendidly, and perhaps I could call Harry up and see if we could put the past behind us…

Then, at 10:18 a.m. exactly, my telephone rang. I was one to keep Muggle instruments in my house, and interestingly enough, it was my pureblood friends who called me on the phone more than the ones who had been exposed to it since they were very young.

"Hello?" I picked it up.

"Hermione!" gushed a happy voice. Lavender, I knew.

"Lavender," I responded warmly. "How are you?"

"You will not believe what just happened," she squealed, brushing aside the formalities. "Guess who just asked me to Parvati's wedding?"

"Who?" I smiled to myself, thinking it was a sweet, random guy and we'd laugh and talk about it.

"Draco! Draco Malfoy!"

I don't know when I felt my heart stop beating but it certainly did for a moment. I felt sick and upset, and for a second was completely speechless. "Draco Malfoy," I echoed. "Draco Malfoy asked you to Parvati's wedding. As his date."

"Yes. Isn't that unexpected?"

"Very," I answered, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. How could she think that I'd care who Draco Malfoy asked, anyway? What was wrong with her? The truth was, of course, that I cared, I cared so much that I felt like I could burst with despair. It sounds ridiculous. I know. But I hadn't realized how deep my crush actually was. It was horrible to hear that he had asked someone else, and worse, I had to pretend to be okay with it, because no one really knew about the crush. No one except my immediate friends, and even they didn't know the extent of it.

"But I suppose it's all right. I mean he's a cute guy. No one else has claims to him. He's a bit of a jerk but you know, it's just a date."

It's just a date, I repeated firmly. Just because he asked Lavender didn't mean that he liked Lavender, or wanted Lavender? And just because he didn't ask me didn't mean that he didn't want me, or didn't like me. I was confusing myself. I needed an answer. And I was about to sob my heart out.

"Listen, Lavender," I finally said, trying to keep my voice from cracking. "I have to go. I'll see you later."

"Bye! Ooh I must tell Parvati!" Lavender's bubbly voice disappeared with a click from the other line. I felt gross. And Draco Malfoy, I thought venomously, should be shot.

--x---x---

"So, Hermione," Ginny giggled. "You excited for tonight?"

It was four p.m. I couldn't get that stupid Draco-asking-Lavender thing out of my head. It's not a big deal, I kept stressing to myself, but I couldn't help but dwell on it. It hurt so much, even when I knew he wouldn't ask me; even when he asking me wasn't even close to an explanation.

"No," I sighed. "not at all. Really Gin, I don't want to talk about it. Can't you just do my bloody make-up?"

I was in Ginny's beauty parlour getting ready for the business dinner. "ooh, this subtle green will totally bring out your eyes," Ginny grinned.

"Ginny," I mumbled, "my eyes are brown."

Ginny tut-tutted and tsk-tsked. "You don't know anything about make-up," she smiled. "but don't worry. Auntie Ginny is here to help you!"

"Auntie Ginny," I said in all my gloom, "If you don't stop it I swear I'll go looking like an Umbridge."

Ginny gasped. "Hermione! Don't you dare! If you dare wear a doily to your dinner party, I'll … I'll never speak with you again!"

I smiled weakly. "I'm only joking."

"There is something totally off with you," Ginny declared. "I wasn't going to question you about it since you don't seem very talkative at the moment; rather taciturn, actually… but what is it? What's bugging you?"

Glumly I proceeded to tell her the whole story. "And," I finished up lamely, "what bugs me the most is not that he asked her. It's just that…that no one's asked me," and this time the tears really did begin to fall. "it's like nobody is interested in me at all."

"Hermione, sweetie," Ginny soothed, "you're only months out of a divorce with your best friend. I'm sure men just figure you're not ready to date yet."

"but it's just to a stupid wedding!" I yelled. "it doesn't mean anything! So why does it bug me so much? Why do I care _so_ very much?"

"Because darling," Ginny paused for theatrical effect, "you're madly in love with him."

"And you're madly in love with Harry," I rolled my eyes.

Except Ginny wasn't laughing. She just gave me a serious, reprimanding look, and then I knew. "Oh gosh," I shrieked in delight, "you do love him! Ginny that is amazing! Call him up right now!"

Ginny shot me an annoyed glance. "no, Hermione, right now we're talking about you," she explained curtly. "And you do seem to care entirely too much that he didn't ask you to the wedding."

"It's not the fact that it's him," I sighed, "it's the principle of the thing. Why would he ask Lavender? She's such a whore!"

"Now the truth comes out," Ginny said gleefully. "You're insulting her. Obviously, you really like him, Hermione. Fess up!"

"Fine, I do," I bit out. "But it doesn't matter since he apparently doesn't feel the same way."

"You never know," Ginny shrugged. "Maybe he's afraid to ask you."

"Afraid?" I snorted. "Hardly. He would never be afraid. I hate him! He's a perverted, filthy prat!"

"Insulting him isn't going to get you anywhere," Ginny noted perceptibly.

Miserable, I stood up to go. Ginny was done and bringing up the Malfoy thing wasn't going to get me anywhere. I grabbed my purse and made a beeline for the door. "Thanks Ginny," I called moodily. "But it seems like nothing can help me now."

"This is your big night, Hermione," Ginny replied, staring at me with a hard expression. "If I were you I'd make the most of it."

I walked out, turning Gin's words over in my head. I knew perfectly well what she meant, but I couldn't bring myself to believe them. I'd woken up this morning and I'd thought, you know, maybe I did have a chance with him. A small chance, but I could make the most of it.

Apparently not. Certainly Lavender had something I didn't.

Boobs.

Men were pigs, I thought fiercely, as I struggled to keep tears from falling. I couldn't ruin my make-up, no way. We'd spent much too long on it. I didn't quite know where Malfoy's house was. Slightly disoriented I apparated in the general location, knowing full-well that blind apparitions always worked badly for me. I remembered Parvati's stupid party and how I'd ended up in some other house. That had not gone well.

Luckily for me, I ended up right in front of a sprawling mansion. Kind of hard to get away from it, I mused. The house was no smaller than expected. I'd thought of a ridiculously and unnecessarily large house and here one was. What an idiot, I thought.

I was so mad at him! Even if he didn't know that I liked him, he had no right to ask someone else to that wedding! How dare he!

I entered the gardens, seeing a front door looming in the distance. Vile little git, I thought unhappily as a house-elf fluttered out to greet me. "Welcome miss," it said cordially, "the Master is expecting you."

"I bet," I scowled.

I followed the house-elf into an abnormally large house decorated sparsely. I could really redo this place, I found myself thinking. It was nice, and mellow, but there was potential for more. I bit my lip to suppress a grin. I'd just realized one of my personality traits acting up: trying to improve everything and anything. Maybe it was just because I was mad at him, because in reality, his house was awfully nice.

"Hermione," he was standing on top of the stairs.

"Draco," I couldn't look him in the eye. I was afraid I might whip out my wand and do something I (possibly) could regret.

"We've got to meet your Muggle friends in approximately an hour at the restaurant. Can Minky get you anything right now?" he asked, gesturing to his house-elf.

How could he talk to me so normally when he had hurt me so badly? How could he? I knew I was overlooking that matter of he didn't know I fancied him, but still…he was _supposed_ to read my mind. Why wasn't he?

"No," I told him shortly. "I hope you're all set to present a good case to Mr. Rivers. Charm his wife but don't flirt."

"Oh, yes, Hermione, I was planning on flirting with her right in front of her husband, who could really benefit my company," he rolled his eyes. "no. that's why you're there, as well. So Mr. Rivers knows that I am… interesting in pursuing other fields."

"Don't be ridiculous," I snapped, feeling my heart beat beginning to race. "There is nothing between us."

"isn't that obvious?" he smirked. "can't you act?"

"No. I can't!"

"Learn then."

"I won't, you selfish little unmentionable!" I shrieked.

Our spat was interrupted by Minky bringing me a glass of water. "Thank you, Minky," I told the trembling little thing as nicely as possible, while simultaneously glaring at Malfoy. Taking a sip I continued to glare as he descended the stairs and stopped just a few feet away from me.

"Hermione," he said, looking right into my eyes.

"Draco," I could barely breathe. He was too close. He was making me uncomfortable. Not an unpleasant uncomfortable, but just a strange feeling that I couldn't describe. I wanted him right there but at the same time I would've preferred he take a few steps back.

He moved closer. He was inches away from me. "What are you doing?" I whispered.

He leaned in, so close, so far, so slow, and he was so close to my face I could feel his breath and my heart beat if possible doubled and I was beginning to sweat like a pig, and just then…

I dropped the glass.

It clattered to the floor, making a tremendous racket. He swore and stepped back, and I turned away, blushing chimney red. I looked at the floor, noticing the glass that now decorated it.

"Um," I began intelligently, trying to appear calm and cool and collected, but _did he just_ _try to kiss me?_ and _oh my God I'm so screwed I probably broke a thirty galleon glass!_ kept running through my head.

"We ought to go," he said coolly, not looking unnerved in the least. "I've got dinner reservations. The limo I sent to pick the Rivers' up should be arriving there any moment."

"Okay," I swallowed down my questions, staring at him in disbelief. Was he going to pretend like nothing had happened?

Okay, so nothing _had_ happened, but still, something was going to happen, I could feel it. If I hadn't broken that glass… was it a good thing I broke the glass, or a bad thing?

"Definitely a bad thing," Draco commented lightly, and I froze. Oh my God could he read my thoughts?

"What?" I asked meekly, hoping against hope that he couldn't. I'd kill him with my bare hands if he put some sort of spell or potion on me! I'd massacre him!

"I can't find my portkey," he continued. "I swear I left it right here, but … it's not here."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, thank Merlin.

Just one less thing to worry about.

A/N: I'm so sorry it took me freaking forever to get the chapter out but really, my real life is disgustingly busy. I'm just really glad I finally finished. I hope you all liked the chapter. I don't know when I'll be able to post the next one; I'm so behind in everything! Ahh! I won't abandon anything though, I promise. It might take me forever but I won't quit on my stories; not when I've come this far.

Thanks to all reviewers. You rock.

Please review on your way out. They really are encouragement to keep going. If very few people review, I always feel as if my work hasn't really been worth it because no one really cares. So reviews make one happy author who in turn makes more chapters. Happy thinking and reviewing!


	17. Heart Racing Moments

A Post Hogwarts Affair Chapter 17

A/N added 1/18: if you read the version posted yesterday, I took that down and added another part to this chapter.

There was heat exuding from his body. Real heat, like it was warm and everything, and it was swallowing me up… Good God, Hermione! I caught myself. I had been musing about his _body heat_. His bloody _body heat_. And I was surprised that it was _warm_. This crush was taking its toll not only on my emotions but apparently on my brain cells as well. Just marvelous!

We were sitting in the restaurant, in our own private little room, ridiculously early. I distinctly remembered Draco telling me that we had to meet them in about an hour; I had been at his house for fifteen minutes at the most. That meant that I had to sit here for forty-five stretchy little minutes and wait it out, with only the world's most confusing man sitting next to me.

At least it was entertainment of some sort.

"So," I said dully, my mind still thinking of the broken glass encounter, as I'd begun to call it. I hated myself at these moments, because I was such a total and complete girl. Had to analyze every single thing. I knew girls that looked at guys' fingernails to tell if he was into her or not; surely I couldn't be turning in to that? But maybe I was. Who knew? Feeling particularly masochistic, I commented, "I hear you're going with Lavender Brown to Parvati's wedding."

Draco nodded. He didn't say anything, though, and I was personally hurt that however painful my topic of conversation was…he wasn't even following through with it! I mean, please, he was acting so antisocial! "That's exciting," I finally commented dryly. "Look. I don't want to sit here and make small talk with you. Frankly, you're not worth it, and the only reason I'm here is so that I can make it easier for you and the Rivers. Oh, and let me add that I have not seen them for years!"

He glared. I tried to remember the semblance of normality and absolute rightness that went with that glare. Glares were familiar; I could deal with them. I mean, all my life I'd glared at this guy, poked him, shouted at him, slapped him, hated him…and now…now things were different. I liked glares. I didn't like broken glass.

"Good," I finally scowled in his direction. "Please keep glaring."

"I will," he replied childishly. "How could I not when all I have to look at is you!"

Even though I'd been thinking the exact same words it still hurt when he voiced them out loud and I heard them swirl around me. "Excuse me?" I said sharply. "I think that's going beyond anything appropriate."

He didn't answer and then after a good half-minute or so he simply commented, "they're here".

I turned, all squabbles forgotten as I looked to see two lovely people I just hadn't met in years and years. And there they were! Mrs. Rivers didn't look a day older (botox? collagen? implants?) and while Mr. Rivers had considerably aged he had done so very gracefully.

"Hermione, darling, you look just marvelous!" Mrs. Rivers enveloped me in a tight hug, which although I was used to dealing well with awkwardness now, was still impossibly hard to breathe in without sounding like I was dying of a hacking cough.

"I'll have to let your parents know you've grown into a stunning woman," Mr. Rivers teased with a twinkle in his eye. "I'm surprised they don't keep you on a leash."

I thought I would faint. I wasn't sure what Draco would say of this "crude Muggle humor" he was probably thinking about. And for the first time I felt a slight twinge of embarrassment about my own heritage. I assure you, it was very short, very _very_ _very_ short-lived, because this crush had warped my own ideals, but soon everything was back on track. Of course Draco wasn't worth sacrificing my early childhood and all that had gone with it. Of course Draco wasn't worth forgetting the Muggle world over.

"Touché, Mr. Rivers," I grinned.

"Shall we have a seat?" Draco jumped in, probably eager to have a say in the conversation after he'd been introduced. "I'm sure we've plenty to discuss."

"Oh, yes, business, what a drag," Mr. Rivers laughed heartily. "I hardly want to think about it!"

"Darling," Mrs. Rivers purred, "now that we're here we might as well give it a thought. You know Hermione, we hardly even thought about what we'd say, we were just so excited about seeing you! Poor Teresa was just jealous out of her mind! She's dying to see you again! It's been just too long!"

I smiled warmly. Screw Draco Malfoy. I was enjoying myself because I truly hadn't seen these people and sometimes it was nice to just sit and catch up. The conversation continued in this vein until appetizers and wine were served. Draco warmed instantly. I knew he was calculating the approximate amount that Mr. Rivers drank; he knew it was good to have your prospects loose and relaxed before proposing business ventures.

"So, tell me about your company," Draco said rather seductively, smiling beatifically at the couple. God it was turning me on so much just to see him talk like that. He was so suave; so… ooh, it was indescribable.

The funny part was that I knew what he was doing. I mean I knew him! He was pretty slimy alright and when he cleaned himself up… I still fell for it. He was beautiful. Waterfalls talking. Maybe I wasn't just in crush, and the word love danced on my lips…

Hah, very funny Hermione. I caught myself before going round the bend completely. That was just totally ridiculous. So maybe my crush was bordering on infatuation, but love, love was a far cry off. And I wouldn't think of it again.

I enjoyed myself. It was good fun—and we hadn't really started to discuss business because every time Draco tried one of the Rivers would start telling a little-Hermione-and-Teresa story or something of the sort. I could tell Draco was pretty upset towards the end and decided I'd better make it up to him considering he had flown these people in on his money and was banking on a good deal. But before I could do so Mrs. Rivers injected her own little interlude.

"So Hermione sweets, I think you've gotten cosy with your boss! Isn't that racy!"

While we were both expecting such a turn of events, neither of us (I hope) expected it in such crude terms. I nearly spit out my wine and the look on Draco's face was far from pleasant; it took me back to the days of Hogwarts when his expression was permanently ugly. "well," I began tentatively, "he's not really my boss - he's just a higher-up." A white lie never hurt anyone, right?

Mr. Rivers laughed. "Well he's quite the higher-up. We'll have to snap a photo to show Teresa. So young man, tell me about yourself. I want to know what kind of men our Hermione likes."

But before a very pissed off looking Malfoy could reply, Mrs. Rivers looked at me with a frown. "I thought Teresa told me you were married... but I guess she never your husband's name. I suppose we're meeting him in flesh!"

Awkward. My face was positively blistering. It was hot and I was itchy. "Well um I got divorced... some months ago," Icouldn't even bring myself to look into her eyes. And then pointing to Draco I added for emphasis, "we're not married."

It was dead silent for a moment and I thought the cause was hopeless until Draco saved the day, so to speak. Although I didn't want to see him in tight spandex like those muggle superheroes... or shit, did I?

Draco laughed. "we're not quite at that level yet," he laughed and squeezed my hand. "but I have to say she is lovely."

I wouldn't let myself believe the words, because I knew they were for show. But it felt really nice to pretend that he meant them. Very, very nice, in fact so nice that I would've jumped headfirst into my daydreams had I not had an important business dinner to finish.

"So she is," the Rivers' agreed.

Finally I decided this was enough side-tracking, and it was time to get back on track. And I didn't want to hear any more of those false compliments from Draco, which were certainly not true.

"So, Mr. Rivers," I began politely as I took a bite of chocolate mousse (heavenly, I assure you. Who cared about diets at times like these? Whatever; I'd rather be full and fat any day). "I'm surprised you're still at the helm of your company. I would think you would retire by now."

"Oh dearie," Mrs. Rivers agreed wholeheartedly, "I've been telling him this for years. He just can't seem to let it go!"

Draco ahem-ed and I put a warning hand on his to tell him to shut up; I was in my element. "Why so?" I asked.

"can't trust just anyone with my baby," Mr. Rivers noted. "don't want them to ruin it."

"What would you say if I proposed to buy your company? Have it merge with ours?" I smiled sweetly at Draco and Mr. Rivers at the same time. "You know I wouldn't let it go to ruin."

For a second there was silence. I could tell by the predatory gleam in Draco's eyes that he certainly would not mind in the least. "Oh yes," he stepped cautiously, "I've been looking to invest in a small successful oil company and this… this fits perfectly."

With a few memories of the past and how responsible I was, we convinced Mrs. Rivers pretty quickly. It took a good long effort to bring Mr. Rivers around but the evening ended in a promise to let us buy the company.

Holy shit. Teresa's parents were going to be stinking rich.

And I was going to get a promotion; I knew it.

Later, Draco and I made our way back to his house—so it did appear we were dating, which fully satisfied gossipy Mrs. Rivers. Yes I loved the woman but honestly nothing pleased her more than a full plate of juicy scandalous rumors. "So?" I asked, eyes sparkling. "That went extraordinarily well, didn't it?"

"Better than I expected," he grinned. "it was a real dud in the beginning. I thought I was going mad."

"Why? They're so sweet!"

"And totally unfit for the owl-eat-owl business world out there! How that company was successful I'll never know!"

"Maybe by good service," I sniffed. Sometimes Draco could just be so damn insensitive. "Anyhow you'll convert it into a magical oil company won't you?"

"Yes. The market for that is just incredible, and right now there isn't a well-known name brand. And … you're good at marketing. I want you to be the top advertising executive for this new branch of my company; I've already decided to call it Wizoil."

"Wizoil?" I asked skeptically, rolling it around on my tongue. "Strange."

"But you won't forget it, will you? It's rather memorable and that's what I'm going for."

I had to agree. My heart was still fluttering from my lovely promotion but I wasn't going to let Mr. High-and-mighty in front of me know it. "Well, I best be getting home," I said, to avoid any confrontations of the sort.

But before I could actually Apparate away, Draco stepped in front of me. He was still a good two feet away, but the way he stared at me made my palpitations increase. I felt close to cardiac arrest, but it was in the most pleasant way possible. His gaze was intense and our eyes clashed, brown and gray, boring, an unsaid competition. I didn't want to lose but I knew if we continued I'd whimper or something like that. I forced myself to tear my eyes away. "What are you doing?" I asked, my breath coming fast and shallow. How could a simple gaze affect me like that?

"Nothing," he whispered. "Nothing at all."

"Just stop," I pleaded. "It's uncomfortable."

"Is it?" His voice was bordering on husky. I was not going to get turned on, no, no, no, no… okay, yeah, I was turned on. Very much so. But I would _ignore_ it.

"I have to go," I said firmly, pushing past him.

I felt a cool hand clasp my wrist – and the first thought that came to mind was that Draco Malfoy was tangibly touching me. It was electric, the way his smooth fingers played on the inside of my wrist. "What are you doing?" I asked sharply, rudely, belying any feelings that I felt inside.

"Hermione," he repeated. "Look at me."

Even though I didn't want to, I did. Something about the way he said it compelled me to do so.

He leaned close to me, very close, close so he could whisper in my ear. "You love me, don't you," it was a statement, not a question. "You watch me. You deny it to yourself, but you know deep down that you want me."

The words were slick whispers tinged with amusement; I could hear the smirk in every syllable even though he wasn't physically smirking for once. I pushed him away. "stop it," but my stomach was pulsing with anxiety and roiling at the situation. I was awfully uncomfortable. So he knew; had known all along; had laughed with glee when he saw the big girl on campus Hermione Granger fall for him, even _when she was still married to Ron Weasley._ He fucking knew.

"I have to go," I moaned. "I have to go home."

But Draco wasn't done yet, so I knew I wasn't going anywhere. Instead he put his lips so they were hardly inches away from my own and whispered some more. "The thing is, Hermione, I don't believe in love right now. I don't want a girlfriend. I don't like commitment."

I stepped back but he grabbed my waist and pulled me closer. Is he going to kiss me? I found myself wondering idly when I finally felt his lips on my own. I had dreamt of this for so long that I could hardly believe it was real. It was a long kiss; a good kiss. He was good at this, and for a while was successful in distracting me with his dominant kisses and his dominant tongue, but let me tell you, you just can't dominate Hermione Granger. No bloody way.

So I pulled away and gave him a very dirty look. "How dare you kiss me," I scowled, panting heavily, so he knew that I still loved it. "How dare you."

"Why not?" he asked, surprised. "You love me, don't you?"

"that's besides the point," I snarled. "First you tell me you hate commitment, you hate the thought of having a girlfriend, you don't believe in love… and then you kiss me? That's the worst pick up line I've ever heard, and if you think you're getting any with that, think again."

His calm demeanor was back. "I just thought I should let you know," he shrugged. "I think you're a great girl, Hermione. I like you, but this is all I want."

A Muggle term I'd once heard came floating back to me. "You want a friends-with-benefits."

He grinned. "A nice, if not blunt way to put it," he considered. "Yes. Hermione, that's what I want."

"No," I said emphatically. "Absolutely not. I can't do that. I won't do that. NO!"

I stormed out of his house then, and Apparated to my own. As soon as I entered I sank down on my couch, tired and weary and most of all unbelievably sad and upset. He wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth it at all. I mean, what kind of man takes advantage of your love and tries to use it for physical pleasure? Okay, a lot of men, but I hadn't planned on being one of those women!

For a while I simply sat on my couch and cried. I cried for myself, I cried for all the time I'd wasted, I cried for having to still work with him, I cried for his loss—his silly beliefs, his total lack of tact with a girl—but most of all…I cried because even after everything, I still wanted him, still thought of him, still couldn't get over him.

It made me sick to my stomach, and I didn't know what would become of it.

A/N: I started this chapter a long time ago, but I had writer's block until about mid-way through it. I know it's not the longest of chapters, and probably an iffy chapter, but now at least we've gotten somewhere. I guess this is a turning-point chapter; I just hope you guys liked it. Thank you for waiting patiently. I appreciate it so much. Thanks for all of your reviews, and please tell me what you thought of this chapter. I hope I am going in a good direction – and don't worry this fic's not over yet!


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